Don't screw with a sorceress

Story by AbaddonFanboy

First part is story set up. The second will have the naughty bits

“STOLEN!?” Mistress Belle's expression was both incredulous and wrathful. It was frightening enough to be in the presence of an angry sorceress at, well, at anytime at all. It was so much worse when you were the subject of said anger.

The mayor of Manelin town, reflected how unfair it was that she should be glaring at him like that. He had had no power, or even knowledge, whatsoever of the delivery order the magic user had made months ago. But she had made it through the town's stage coach business, which was owned by his younger brother, gods curse his incompetence, and her wrath would undoubtedly not have discriminated between the innocent and guilty when she heard of the theft. So he had come himself to apologise and beg her forgiveness.

He cringed behind his official hat and kneaded it nervously between his large hands, as though it were a shield. He stood at well over six feet tall, and was well padded thanks to a generous diet, but he still shrunk before the 5'6 woman, before him. Mistress Belle was a brown haired 'female' with a cute, heart shaped face, short hair, and glasses. She stood at the entrance to the magnificent tower she had erected on the hill overlooking Manelin that she had erected over night when she first moved here 9 years ago, clad in a very revealing bright red robe, slit along the thighs so the front was more like a really long loin cloth that reached the ground. The cloth there barely contained her zaftig body, a pair of firm breasts twice the size of her head and a slim toned waist that flared out provocatively into a wide hipped, huge assed, long legged and thick thighed lower body.

Truth be told she was a boon to the town's commerce and made no trouble at all, unlike the tales he heard of other sorceresses who could be down right tyrannical and mad, beyond an insistence to privacy and the occasional muttering of the peasantry who blamed milk going sour, or a miscarriage on her presence. Fools, if she really wanted to hurt any of them a few misfortunes would be the very least things to worry about. She had provided immeasurable support to the town, her mere presence affecting the fertility of all things, plants, animal and sentient beings, making the harvests so bountiful the barns were often fit to burst. In addition, her spells ensured the rivers never flooded, disease was virtually unheard of anymore thanks to her potions she sold to the populace, the inns were ever full of travelers come to ask her favor, filling the town coffers, and bandits knew better than to come in sight of the place. In return all she had asked for was respect, privacy, and protection of her interests.

Unfortunately, she had ordered something from far off Elvedren, an alembic that was apparently extremely rare and so expensive to procure even her enormous fortunes were hit hard by it. It had made the long perilous journey by ship from Araby easily, docked in the capital, and been brought by stage coach under a heavy armed guard with the mayor's brother falling over himself promising he'd deliver it right to her door step. And then it just went missing. How any thief could get past the magical wards and guards the sorceress had placed on it was beyond comprehension, but he had done it. And now they had broken their contract with her and the consequences could be dire, unless his brother's final ploy worked.

His eyes went down to her cleavage, which was tightening alarmingly as her already huge tits grew, a sure sign that fertility magic was building up within her. Even more alarmingly, he could see the front of her robe shift, as something stirred beneath it. Discreet enquiries to the ladies of negotiable affection she hired every once in a while revealed she was a hermaphrodite, an extremely rare gender, born with fully functioning male and female organs, and usually highly skilled at fertility or 'life magic' as a result, but he had discounted the more fanciful tales they told of her ' attributes' as ludicrous fancy.

He didn't disbelieve them now as he stopped retreating in wonder as the loin cloth rose higher, a distinctive log like shape covered beneath it. The cloth rose to a forty five degree angle, pointing at him almost accusingly, letting him know that, she had a cock that was well over a foot long, and thicker than her wrist!The rising of the loin cloth also showed the creamy inner flesh of her thighs, enough to let him know she wasn't wearing panties or any other undergarments. The head was clearly visible beneath cloth, as was the throbbing motion. In addition, her eyes were

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