Megan hypnotizes Erica into becoming a burly lion barbarian; the now-male Erica takes control and hypnotizes her right back. Explicit.
While Erica leaned back cross-legged on her girlfriend's bed, Megan pulled a mahogany jewelry box down from the top of her bookshelf. Holding it in one hand, she opened the lid and lifted a brass stopwatch out by its long chain.
Erica stifled a snort. "You're gonna use that to hypnotize me?"
Megan's cheeks turned red. She began to bundle the chain into her palm. "Well, I mean, I don't have to use it. I want you to be comfortable. I thought—"
"No, it's fine." Erica shook her head. "I just figured a watch would be, like, too stereotypical."
The smile returned to Megan's face. "It's easier with a physical focus," she explained, scooting up onto the bed to sit in front of Erica. Megan had insisted that the both of them dress down to just their underwear, though she hadn't explained further than to say that this was going to be a 'sexy hypnosis session'. She'd dodged every question Erica asked about what that meant or what she was going to do, though Megan had been clear that Erica would be able to stop any time if she wanted. Megan had been so eager Erica couldn't refuse. It was hard to say no to those big brown eyes.
Megan bent over the watch, clicking the stopper a few times, then winding it up, clicking it again, and winding it one more time before she seemed satisfied. Holding the chain between her fingers, she let it drop from her hand and spin until all the kinks in the chain were worked out.
"So what do I have to do?" Erica asked.
Megan caught the stopwatch between her hands and held it between her palms. "Just listen to me. You'll know what to do," she said. She waited until Erica's eyes were on her, and not on the watch. When Megan was sure she wasn't looking, a tiny glimmer of light flickered across the brass case and wove down into the clockwork gears. The spell was set. Megan opened her hands again and smiled. "Ready?"
Erica re-crossed her legs to get comfortable, sat up straight, and nodded at Megan. "Hypno away," she said. She tried not to be too sarcastic. As dorky as she thought all this fantasy role-playing stuff was, she knew Megan was into it.
With a click of her thumb, the watch began ticking. Megan dropped it from her hand, then let it sway at the end of its chain. A slight tip of her wrist from side to side kept it swinging.
Curious, Erica followed the swinging watch. She wondered what it was about watches that was supposed to be so trance-inducing. Maybe the gleam of the light rolling off of brass and crystal, maybe the way the second hand spun within the pendulum's arc, maybe the tick-tick-tick-tick that kept tick going and tick wouldn't tick stop tick.
"You're going to relax," Megan said, and then it happened.
Erica's back slouched. Her shoulders loosened. Her arms hung heavy where she'd left them folded in her lap. She swayed in place, then leaned forward to keep herself from falling over and kept staring at the watch. She tried to fixate on what part of it was supposed to be putting her into a trance. Not that it was working. Still, it was hard to focus. Her mind kept slipping right off the watch face, no matter how hard she stared.
"Let go of all your negative emotions," Megan's voice said, somewhere behind the stopwatch. Everything beyond it was hazy and indistinct. "You're going to let it all go with one big, deep breath. All those thoughts that make you feel angry, or sad, or frustrated—when you exhale, those are all going to slip away. Ready? In...and out. One more time, gather up all those bad thoughts. In...and out. One last time..."
Erica's head rose and fell in time with her guided breathing. Her mouth hung open. Every breath in was cool and soft and clean; every breath out was warm and slow. She could almost feel her negative thoughts slipping out between her lips with each exhale. Her heavy eyelids blinked a few times. The watch still swung in front of her. Or maybe it was everything else swinging back and forth around it? Hard to tell; easier to just keep following it.
"Your mind is at peace. You're floating in space, drifting, your whole body's weightless. Everything but my voice is fading away. Don't worry, I'm still here. Just listen to my voice."
The brass shone in front of Erica's eyes. Her breathing was low and steady. Her head swayed, following the pendulum's arc. She wasn't sure what she was staring at any more, but it was important to keep looking and keep listening.
Megan leaned forward and looked into Erica's glazed, half-lidded eyes, unable to keep herself from smiling. "You know that everything I tell you is true, right?" she asked.
"Yes," Erica said, unconsciously and without inflection.
Megan told her, "Then listen to me: You are Uruk, a savage barbarian lord of the western hills."
Erica's head spun and her eyes fluttered. The trance faltered. For a moment, she almost called what Megan had just said a load of corny fantasy nonsense, but the watch kept swinging and her eyes kept following it and soon she was sinking back down into the trance. Megan's words filled the empty spaces in her mind. Her name was Uruk. She ruled by strength of will and martial prowess. No one in her horde dared oppose her.
Her back arched. The pops and creaks of shifting muscle and ligament sounded out from all over her body. Her shoulders spread wider, dragging the straps of her bra along with them. New sinew and muscle fiber wrapped around her chest and rippled down her abdomen. The groan that slipped from her throat cracked into a lower register. Her bra clung to her firmer, flatter chest, while her panties hugged her bulging mound. With each beat of her heart, it swelled out thicker between her legs.
Megan watched, wide-eyed. Her voice was little more than a squeak until she gulped and cleared her throat. The spell worked better than she'd hoped. She continued, trying to keep her voice calm and soothing. "You're one of the beast-folk, from the lion clan."
Erica, now Uruk, tightened her face with a wince. Her nose wrinkled as it was pressed into a broad, triangular shape. Whiskers poked from her cheeks. Small fangs rose into view from behind her peeled lips. Her hands, which hung limp in her lap, curled to bare their short, tapered nails. Coarse, dark fur sprouted from the center of her chest. The cups of her bra hugged her thickening pectorals while a line of fur climbed upward from her panties. Her panties squeezed her swollen clit firm against her aching mound.
At the same time, her thoughts took on a bestial edge. The urge to hunt, a territorial instinct, an aggressive nature, and contempt for the weaklings who hid in their cities of stone. Bit by bit, she grew into the role of the wild barbarian lord.
Megan's heart thumped against her chest. For a moment she'd forgotten the script she'd planned out, lost in a trance of her own. Seeing her girlfriend change before her was almost intoxicating. After a few moments of open-mouthed silence, Megan remembered herself, shook her head, and continued. "You're a proud warrior, undefeated in single combat."
The words flowed over Uruk and sunk into her subconscious. They filled her mind and spurred images of bronze blades, of her breath fogging the air in front of her; sounds of swords clashing, of a roar spilling from her chest. Uruk's shoulders hunched and bristled with power. A silent snarl curled across her short, dark-lipped snout. Her climbing ears twitched angrily atop her head. Her hands clenched, squeezing the pads of her fingertips and palms together as she flexed her claws.
Sandy fur coursed along the backs of her arms and spread down the bridge of her nose. With a snort and a puff of her thick chest, her bra snapped clean off her shoulders. The bulge in her crotch rolled down from the top as it grew, packed firm and insistent against the front of her panties. Their waistband sagged forward under the weight of her new-grown cock. The throbbing pressure was enough to tip the scales in Uruk's mind to the other side—he was male.
Uruk's eyes narrowed and glinted at the stopwatch. The fur along his spine stood on end, and a low rumble rose from his chest. His rising aggression was encouraging him to fight back against the strange intrusion into his mind.
His growl was enough to snap Megan back to reality. Her hold over Uruk was slipping; she'd pushed him too far too quickly. She took a deep breath to center herself, then lowered her voice and spoke slowly. "You're going to relax. Breathe in...and out."
Uruk's wide nostrils flared. His chest rose, then fell. The snarl on his lips slackened and his eyes began to glaze over, losing their focused gaze.
"Good. Keep breathing, in and out. You're standing in front of a hot spring. Feel the steam rising up around you. You dip a foot in. It's so warm all your stress starts melting away."
Unconsciously, Uruk stretched out his toes, then flexed his claws. He felt the water lapping between his toes, and the heat that seared for a moment, then became pleasant and soothing.
"Now both feet. Doesn't that feel good? Now you wade in deeper, and the water comes up to your hips..."
The tension melted one by one from Uruk's calves and thighs, then his back, then shoulders, then neck. By the end, his whole body had gone slack again, soothed into a peaceful torpor. His thick chest, with its half-grown mane, rose and fell slowly. His round, amber eyes followed the swinging stopwatch.
For a short while, Megan collected her thoughts while Uruk sat in the trance. Aside from almost losing control, her spell was working far better than she'd hoped. She could call it right then, wake Uruk up as a beastly barbarian, and have a wonderful night. On the other hand, there was nothing stopping her, and he was under control again...
Megan cleared her throat and subconsciously leaned forward. The watch swung closer and closer to Uruk's face. "You've claimed many women as a clan chief," she said. A knot of embarrassment twisted in her gut, but she ignored it. There was nothing wrong with having fantasies.
A muffled grunt left Uruk's lips. His mind was still awash in the warm, soothing spring water, but now new images flashed like memories through his mind: A warrioress stretching back on her furs, still flecked with sweat from battle; priestess thrown onto her back across her god's altar; shepherd-woman laying back on the grass, her legs wet with the morning dew.
The small pair of panties could no longer hold him back. With a surge of growth, his cock slipped free and flopped onto the sheets between his legs. It was slowly swelling still, stiffening before Megan's eyes. His briefs themselves lasted only a little longer, until even the strain of his balls was too much for them to take and they ripped apart.
Uruk's skin filled out with fur, smooth and tawny, from his hands and feet up to his torso. Along his front, his sleek pelt mingled with the darker, thicker fur of his mane, which covered his chest and grew thick around his neck and shoulders. A pair of rounded feline ears peeked from beneath the fur on top of his head.
Megan fought back the urge to run a hand through his mane. Instead of going on, she hesitated; was she being self-indulgent? Then again, who cared if she was? Why shouldn't she indulge her fantasies with her girlfriend? After all, Erica could stop this any time she wanted. Megan continued, "The beast-blood runs strong in your veins. Some say you're more beast than man."
Another low growl rose from Uruk's chest. His whiskers twitched as his short snout grew into a broad muzzle. Thick fangs filled his gums. His leonine nose spread wider and his whiskers lengthened. His hands were more like paws: thick and clumsy, with heavy pads and sharp claws. A tail rolled out along the sheets behind him; a tuft of fur as dark as his mane sprouted at the tip.
Uruk's instincts surged free and feral inside his chest: the hunter, the warrior, the conqueror, the lord of the wild. He held a special contempt for the tricks of civilization—their stone walls, their clay tablets—but most of all, their gutless and duplicitous magic.
His eyes were still locked on the swinging watch, but they began to narrow again. His thick lip peeled back, baring his fangs. Suspicion prickled along his neck.
Megan could hardly believe this was working so well. Her hand was close to cramping; she'd have to stop soon, but she felt she could keep it up for another minute or so. Seeing Uruk's mane beginning to stand on end, she switched tactics again, going back to soothing the savage beast. "You're doing so good. Now, you're lying down on top of your softest furs..."
The ferocity melted from Uruk's mind, though the tinge of magic lingered in the back of his thoughts. The stopwatch swung in front of his eyes, and some perfect harmony between its motion and sound and shimmer made it impossible to look away.
Flushed and fidgeting a little, Megan started in again. She'd gotten as far as the script she'd planned out went. Now she had to start improvising. "You train for battle every day, to make sure your throne is secure," she said.
Uruk's deep rumbling reverberated through the bedsprings. His frame was already ruggedly built, but now his tightly-woven, sinewy muscle bulged outward. His chest rose; his biceps swelled; his neck broadened. His cheeks thickened with muscle, to give his fangs extra bite. Remnants of battle-scars ran like ripples beneath the fur on his forearms and chest.
The burly lion's hands clenched into fists. His eyes focused, no longer glazed over, but bright and sharp. He stared at the watch, seeing it for what it was: a spell meant to enchant him.
Megan was caught by surprise when a paw grasped her by the wrist and tugged her forward. She was pulled face-to-face with a surly, snarling lion. He was so close she could smell the scent of wild cedar forests on his fur. His amber gaze was fixed on her own. She squirmed in Uruk's grasp and began to say, "Hey, hold on—"
"Silence, sorceress!" Uruk growled. The ragged rumble of his voice both excited and intimidated Megan. He pulled the watch and chain from her hand, then held it delicately between his thick claws. After appraising it with a narrow glare, he turned back to scowl at Megan. "You dare try to bewitch me?"
Megan tried to back away, but his paw had a tight hold on her wrist. She couldn't turn away from Uruk's piercing eyes. "Um, well, no, I was using magic, but it was just to...um, bring you out—"
Uruk let go. Megan wasn't expecting that; she flopped back against the bed. Before she could move, he was on top of her, pushing her down with one hand and holding the watch in the other. The mattress bounced and protested beneath their weight. "Perhaps the witch deserves a taste of her own magic," he said. With a flick of his hand, the watch swung back and forth, ticking away above her head.
Megan tried to look anywhere else but the watch: Uruk's thick paw, his scowling face, the ceiling fan above her bed. No matter where she turned, the bronze watch gleamed in the corner of her eye, drawing her gaze toward it like water circling a drain. She reassured herself that her spell wouldn't work if she didn't want it to. She could make it...stop at...any...
Thump. Megan's body sagged back the bed, head cocked at an angle, lips parted, eyes following the swinging stopwatch. Uruk lifted his hand from Megan's shoulder; the trance alone kept her rooted in place.
Uruk loomed over her. "Tell me, sorceress: do you not enjoy being controlled? To feel your body relax, to see your strength ebb, and to watch your will wash away?" he asked.
It wasn't the sort of induction Megan was used to hearing, but it was working all the same. The deep tone of his voice and his transfixing stare gave his words power. She felt as if she was sinking down into the bed under their weight, wrapped up in the soothing rumble of his voice, ready to listen to anything as long as he kept talking.
"Yes, I do," she said. The words escaped her mouth like a sigh. She blinked drowsily, her eyes locked on the swaying watch.
Uruk snorted and curled his lip. "Predictable. Magic-users are all alike. You think yourselves lords, but in your hearts, you wish to be bound." He rested his paw against Megan's hips, then slid it slowly along her side. Her body was warm and heavy in his hands and shivered beneath his touch. He bent forward, pressing his waist between her legs. His stiffening shaft leaned against the side of her thigh. "Very well. Your will is mine, sorceress. You shall do no magic unless your lord wills it."
As his claws dragged across her skin, the hair on Megan's neck stood on end and her breath quickened. She couldn't think clearly about what Uruk was doing, because the swinging watch dominated her attention. Without thinking, the words spilled out of her: "Yes, milord."
An engraved silver collar closed around her neck as soon as she spoke. It was thick and heavy, and she could feel its presence in her mind like a thumb grinding her thoughts into the ground. Silver, to bind magical beings. She knew that immediately, as clearly as she knew that her name was Megera, and that she was indeed a sorceress who had tried to bewitch a barbarian lord. The spell she'd set on the watch made slipping into the role feel like second nature.
Uruk slid closer to his entranced prize. His body pressed against hers; fur and firm muscle against soft skin, his erection against her mound—though he went no further than simply putting his weight against her. His free paw explored her body, roving over her back and her chest. He caught the edge of her panties with a finger and tugged them off her hips. It was all he could do to hold back his instincts, so he could take the time to teach this sorceress the consequences of using magic.
"Being bound frees you. You have nothing to worry about. No fear, no uncertainty. Your only concern is to serve me," he told her.
The world around Megera was soft and hazy; the only thing she could see perfectly was the watch in Uruk's hand. She felt as though she was floating along a lazy stream on her back, letting the sun warm her and the water cool her, not worrying where she was going.
Uruk's muzzle curled into a grin. He squeezed Megera's hips and said, "You want to please me, don't you?"
The words came from somewhere above her. While she couldn't see Uruk, she could feel the weight of his chest and the rumble in his voice, and the memory of his face hung in her thoughts: thick-maned, rugged, and handsomely bestial. Her eyes were fixed on the watch, but her gaze turned inward as she groaned, "Yes..."
Uruk slipped his free hand under Megera's waist and lifted her up. "The women that please me the most have long hair and comely faces," the lion-lord began. As he spoke, he leaned down over her, deftly guiding her body. Once the tip of his shaft pressed against her folds, he sunk down on top of her. His hips pumped with a deep, satisfied growl and the bed creaked beneath them.
Megera gasped and arched her back. Her hands clutched at the sheets. In her trance, it felt as if her body had drifted up into the air to meet his. As her dark hair spilled down from her scalp, it gathered back behind her head, and tied itself into a high ponytail bound with a silver clasp. The ponytail poured back onto the bed beneath her, already long enough to reach her shoulders. Her cheeks softened, her eyeliner became carefully-traced kohl, and her parted lips curled into a small, but inviting pout.
Her breathing was soft, coming in gasps as Uruk held her close and ground his body against hers. The pleasure seeped into her trance just like his words, and flooded her with fantasies of being taken by him. While she lay entranced on the bed, in her mind she was hanging onto his neck, sinking her fingers into his warm fur, feeling his powerful body flex against hers.
The more eager Uruk became as he watched Megera grow into his vision of beauty, the more the watch wobbled as it swung. Despite its erratic path, her heavy-lidded eyes continued to follow it, while gasps and sighs rolled from her parted lips. Between bared teeth, Uruk continued, saying, "Their breasts are soft and full...and their skin richly tanned."
Megera's body arched up to meet Uruk's, sleepily at first, then with growing vigor. Warmth blossomed across her skin. Her chest rose and fell as she panted for air. With each sharp breath, her bra strained tighter against her breasts. It tried to hold her breasts back, but soon they began to bulge out over the neckline, fighting for space on her chest. Her skin glistened with sweat; she could feel the heat baking into her from head to foot. A tug from Uruk's hand tore her bra from her shoulders. Her breasts spilled free against her chest, rolling and swaying as her body rose and fell against Uruk's.
The relief of being freed brought a deep sigh from her throat. Megera rolled her tongue across her lips, wetting their plump and swollen pout. Her dusky eyelashes batted a few times as she struggled to keep her eyes on the swinging watch. Her tan had grown to a warm golden-brown, while beneath her, her ponytail flowed down her shoulders and back. The enchanting sorceress already looked like a fine consort for the beastly lion-lord.
Uruk began to pant too, his thick chest heaving up and down. It wasn't only Megera's beauty that excited him, it was the way she rested against him, his arm around her back, her legs straddling his hips. It was her warmth and her energy. It bristled his mane and stoked his wild instincts.
Between deep, panting breaths, he rumbled, "They have dancers' hips...and wear...fine silks..."
Megera's body began changing before he'd even finished speaking. Her hips and ass swelled out into his paw, spreading his fingers wide as they grew. A gauzy silken loincloth draped between her thighs, and only accentuated the thick flare of her hips and the smooth curve of her waist. More silks wrapped across her body, veiling her face and covering her arms.
The sight of her full figure was more than Uruk's instincts could take. He tossed the watch aside, clutched Megan with both hands, and let out a rumbling snarl. He moved faster now, looming over her and driving her down against the bed with his thrusts.His mane draped around her head like a canopy.
Megera batted her eyelashes. The watch was gone. The trance had broken, and now she found herself gazing up at Uruk's face. It sent giddy delight running down her spine to see his handsome leonine features. The fact that he had chosen her tonight was a great honor, and she enjoyed pleasing him, whether through dance, or through more intimate acts. "Ahh, milord!" she gasped, throwing her arms around his neck.
The barbarian lord hunched close over his sorceress-slave. His hands clutched her plump hips. Her warm, heavy breasts pressed tight against his thick chest. The beast blood seared in his veins, driving him into a primal frenzy. He gripped the bed, sinking his claws into the sheets. Their bodies ground tight together. Megera groaned and let her head fall back; Uruk snarled, his eyes narrow and gleaming and feral.
Megera squirmed in his grasp. His hips crashed against hers and his hot breath flared along her neck. She couldn't handle it much longer. Her nails dug into his skin, though he hardly felt it. Her legs curled, crossed at the ankle behind his hips. Her back arched, her body quivered, and sweat beaded across her brow.
Her orgasm struck her like a wave. Her mind went numb, almost as if she had slipped back into a trance. Gasping and rolling and clinging to him, she rode through the crashing crests of her orgasm. Once they had subsided, leaving her with a lingering glow and a pounding heart, she redoubled her efforts to please Uruk, now that she could focus her attention.
Uruk's fury lasted for several long minutes, until at last he clutched Megera tight against his chest, arched his head back, and came inside her. His rolling thrusts continued with each thick throb. She heard his heavy snorts each time his hips met hers. Almost too soon, he was spent, and the fire in his veins eased, and he could think clearly again.
Uruk rose to his hands and knees, then sat up on the bed. He pulled Megera along with him and settled her into his lap. She let out a sigh and sunk back against his fur. His mane tickled her between her shoulder blades. Leaning down, Uruk lapped at her neck and cheek, tasting the salty exertion on her skin. A pleasant rumble reverberated from his body as his arms wrapped around her and his paws rose to cup her breasts.
"There will be more of that before the night's end," he said. When he spoke softly, his deep voice became surprisingly tender. "But for now...a dance while I recover." He pressed his thick lip against the crook of her neck, giving her a slow kiss, then a gentle nip with his fangs. With a small push, he helped her back to her feet.
Megera bowed her head, feeling the weight of the silver around her neck. As she raised her head, she smiled and said, "Of course, milord."
The morning light was pouring in by the time Erica woke. She was sprawled face-down against the bed, legs tangled in the covers. She pushed herself up onto her hands, then stretched: arching her chest forward, then leaning back and lifting her ass into the air as high as possible. Then she sat up and yawned, baring her short fangs and wrinkling her small feline nose.
The bed was too comfortable to leave, though, so she flumped back down against the pillow. She felt amazing. More relaxed than she'd been in months. Whatever the deal had been with the hypnosis stuff, she couldn't argue with the results. Everything about the previous night after Megan had pulled out the stopwatch was a blur, though a pleasant and vaguely horny one.
Megan was still asleep on the bed beside her. Her mouth hung half-open beneath the silk veil hanging across her face, and she had a light tan, like she'd just gotten back from a sunny beach vacation. She was laying on top of the sheets, and aside from the veil, she was entirely nude.
Erica felt an insistent need bubbling up in the back of her head, one that was both new and familiar at the same time. She slid over next to Megan, cuddled up against her back, and pressed her stiffening erection tight between their bodies. A sense of possessiveness washed over her that she indulged. She wrapped her arms around Megan's chest and hugged her close. As she felt Megan start to stir, she growled into her ear, "Morning, sorceress."