The Magic Ring, Pt 6
by Plowjack
Mysticism/Femdom/Muscle Growth/ Hypnosis/Erotica


Caveat lector

Fergus clung tightly to his lover's thick arm. He rested his head against her
stony shoulder as her arm flexed under his hands. His eyes were closed, his
tongue running over his lips as Suzanne's hand squeezed and stroked his hard
cock.

They lay sprawled together on Suzanne's huge new bed in Suzanne's big new
high-roofed cottage, as the last rays of daylight seeped golden through closed
shutters. The light burnished the witches' bodies, as Fergus slowly writhed in
her grasp. Suzanne's tree-trunk thighs were spread and a blonde head was
pressed to her sex, a naked woman lying between her long legs.

Fergus squeezed Suzanne's arm in his two hands, able to knead her flesh a
little as her muscles worked in his hands. She held the base of his shaft and
squeezed rhythmically, sending waves of pleasure through him. When she felt
his small hands on her biceps, she flexed her arm, making her muscles harden
into defined, unyielding leather, still flexing as she squeezed. Fergus
pressed his lips to her muscle, and moaned low.

"Don't you dare to come, my dolly", Suzanne whispered, her lips warm against
his ear. Fergus sighed, and clutched her arm harder, his hips thrusting into
her hand.

Months after the Goddess Maeve had granted Suzanne her special blessing the
former plowgirl had grown from a round and muscular 5'6" to a true giant of a
woman - 6'6" inches tall. Fergus could no longer even nearly get both his
hands around her flexed bicep. Where, before, her muscle had been thickly
padded, now her arm was rock-hard, muscle nearly straining against her skin.
She still had a small layer of softness, enough to make her thighs and belly
feel like velvet-covered stone, but her powerful body was well-defined, her
full breasts standing round on the slabs of her muscular chest. Her brown hair
had grown to her waist, and she usually wore it braided and bound.

Fergus opened his eyes and saw the blonde Welsh girl, Mefanwy, suckling on
Suzanne's clitty. He felt a shudder run through her big frame, and the light
of the setting sun seemed to go from gold to silver. Suzanne moaned and
sighed, and he looked down to see the ring on her right hand, the hand that
held his cock, shining with the silver light of the magic. He let the familiar
tingling flow into him, from her hand to his cock and into his flesh. He felt
the rush of strength and delight that always accompanied the flow of power.

Under his hands he felt Suzanne's arm begin to swell, her shoulder rising
along his cheek as her growing upper body pushed him to the edge of the bed,
clinging to her bicep. The muscle under his hands grew from substantial to
huge, from smooth, hard flesh to warm granite, too big to hold onto. He
wrapped his arms around her biceps. The power of the Magic Ring, conjured by
Suzanne and powered by the Goddess Maeve, allowed Suzanne to grow from her
common size to an over 8' tall, rock hard, wide hipped amazon warrior, for as
long as she wore the ring.

One month previously, Suzanne and her coven had called together witches and
followers of the Old Ways who wished to participate in a spell to aid in the
destruction of Baron Robert, the Norman overlord who had been set over them by
William the Bastard, not a decade ago. That self- proclaimed 'Nobleman' had
burned the ancient hall of the local Saxon king, and subjected the villages of
this western shire to crushing taxes. His men had made free with the people,
conscripting men and raping women, but a few years ago Baron Robert himself
had made the error of nearly raping a young woman named Suzanne. Suzanne was
of the Witch-kind, and bent her sorcery to seeking aid and answer from the
ancient spirit called Maeve. Maeve was a goddess (some said a demon) whose
provenance was the strength and power of women. She was depicted as a huge,
powerful, sexually insatiable woman, usually accompanied by her consort, the
Pretty Man, often shown clinging to her leg or arm, as though for protection.
By her magic Suzanne had created the Magic Ring.

After she had made the Ring she, Fergus and the coven of Maeve's witches had
discovered the full extent of its power. Each time she used the ring,
triggered by her orgasm, she returned to normal just a little taller, a little
stronger. A portion of that same power was given to anyone in direct physical
contact with her, or even with someone in contact with that person. Of this
power men received only a trickle, and women a much larger flow. Those women
in direct contact with Suzanne's transformation, or even indirectly through a
mutual lover, could themselves be transformed.

Under the direction of the Goddess, Suzanne and the priestesses called for a
Grand Sabbat. There they assembled many of those women, and some men, who
would end the rule of the Normans, and who did not fear the Old Ways. In a
working of sexual magic the coven created a great enchantment that had swept
the whole meadow. Under that silver light many women had been transformed -
growing larger and stronger than the men who they lay with, there in the
witches' meadow. They gained muscle, and stature, and a fire in their minds
that brought them together. Not long after, many of them, led by Suzanne and
the coven, and accompanied by those men who had been swept up in the spell,
moved away from the village they had known, into secret redoubts in the
forest, long known to the secret gatherings of the witches. There they built a
few buildings, including this bower temple for Suzanne herself, with a bed
large enough for even her transformed body to lay upon. They became a band of
freedom fighters, or brigands, as the women learned sword-skill from the few
men who had it. They were loved by many of the peasants, to whom they gave
some bits of ill- gotten gains, and denounced and hunted by the church and the
king's sherrif, the Baron.

Now the silver light seemed to fill all their bodies as Suzanne reached her
full eight foot transformation. Fergus embraced her massive arm, his lips now
pressed to her tricep as her growing hand engulfed his member. Suzanne rocked
again as another orgasm flowed through her. "Oh, Mefanwy ... " she moaned.
Fergus felt the tingling power flow into his manhood, then felt his flesh
swell, growing to become more than her huge hand could contain. He gasped as
his sensation changed. He gazed up into his beloved's lovely face, her eyes
enchanting, shining with the silver light of the spell. Her huge, soft lips
spoke, her voice a feminine rumble full of magical command: "You will not
come, Fergus, nor become any softer, until you are permitted." She stroked his
cock until it reached a full twelve inches, thick and hard, and said, "I gain
more and more control of the power, my dolly. Now I can choose which part I
make bigger. Watch you now ... " Again she bucked, her thighs nearly
concealing the blonde woman between her legs. As the current tingled, Fergus
felt the arm that he clung to grow again, as an inch of rock-hard muscle
swelled her biceps, triceps and forearm. She released his cock, allowing it to
slap against his belly, and flexed her biceps in his hands. Her arm peaked
into a mountain of muscle, both his hands clinging to the mound. "And again,"
she said and once again her arm grew, iron peaking upon the peak, veins
pulsing under her skin. "But it seems to take some concentration," she said,
as she relaxed her arm and the extra muscle seemed to relax back into her more
usual boulder of flesh. "This toy, however, seems to come naturally," she
said, as she lifted his gigantic member and let it slap again. "Now come up,
my girl, for surely you must be spent," Suzanne said, reaching down to pet the
blond locks of the woman who had brought her to her power this day.

Fergus watched as a pair of strong, shapely hands and arms reached over
Suzanne's thighs, and pulled the lovely face of Mefanwy up, as she dragged
herself to lay her head, panting deeply, upon Suzanne's belly. The blonde
lifted herself, hands on Suzanne's thighs, thick arms lifting her body as she
climbed up the big woman. Suzanne reached down and scooped up Fergus by the
ass, lifting him in one hand, bringing his lips to hers, her soft, warm tongue
licking his lips a little. The power of the ring had not increased Fergus'
5'9" height. He felt tiny in her huge arms, like a doll, as she pressed his
chest to one thick, firm breast, her nipple like a thumb pressing into his
flesh. He wrapped his arms around her neck and settled in, his body draped
over her bosom. He felt a strong hand grip his member, then a warm mouth. He
started, and Suzanne reached down and pulled Mefanwy away from Fergus' member.
The blonde made a little sound of disappointment, but then fastened her mouth
gladly on Suzanne's nipple.

With just a small huff of effort, Suzanne gathered both of her lovers in her
arms, and hoisted herself, and them, from the bed. Mefanwy, once a slip of a
girl from the Welsh hills not far across the border, had become a strapping
5'10" woman, thick with hard muscle. She whooped and wrapped her long legs
around Suzanne, as the giant woman lifted her easily with her right arm.
Five-foot-nine-inch Fergus, much more slender and light, she cradled in her
other arm. She half-tossed them a little higher, and got her forearms under
each of their butts. "There we are, my dollies", she said, her voice powerful
and sensual, "now we must go out to the folk."

Outside of Suzanne's bower, the witches were gathered; a group of 32 women and
some 26 men, who had followed Suzanne and the coven into this woodland camp.
Here on the night of the Full Moon, they all stood mostly naked, clad only in
bracelets and jewelry, and a few prettily arranged scarves. The twilight had
turned to full dark now, and torches illuminated the crowd, casting a golden
glow over the flesh of the women and men.

On the wide porch of the house in which Suzanne and her toys were dallying
stood a man and a woman. The man was a squat, wide fellow on the edge of his
old age, but still hard and strong. His iron-grey hair was cropped short as
was his beard, and he wore bands of iron on his thick arms. The woman was
younger, a little, than the man, but she stood head and shoulders above him.
She was white skinned, her hair still black, but grey- streaked, long and
full, but her body was thick and muscular, her shoulders as broad as the
man's. Her arms were as thick as his, but rather longer, and her long legs
plainly dwarfed the shorter man's. These were the local blacksmith - the man
known in the village as the Captain - and the matron of a local farm. They
were the priestess and priest of the witches. Aedwynna, the priestess, had
been among the first to be told of the Magic Ring's power, and she had
benefited from its magic greatly. She had been a powerful, six-foot tall woman
to begin with, now she stood three inches taller, her round, padded body made
hard and thick, her huge bosom lifted and firmed. She was adorned in a silver
neck-ring, and silver bands upon her biceps, with an iron chain falling around
her waist to point toward her fur.

Gathered around Aedwynna and the Captain were the remainder of the coven.
Red-headed Sigreda, a warrior woman whose body was a solid mass of muscle, and
Torwyn, her Bard lover; the seventh member of their circle was Janet, a young
witch of Suzanne's age, newly initiated before the current magical changes.
She was a slender 6'2" tall, just as she had begun. Her once-soft, slender
body was now a thick tangle of ripcord, rope-hard muscle. These were Suzanne's
intimates, old friends and elders, who had gained the most from the Ring's
workings. But the surrounding crowd of dozens had all been affected.

As Suzanne and her lovers emerged onto the porch of their cottage they were
greeted by the cheers and hails of the witches. They saw the 8" form of their
leader emerge through the tall door they had built for her, carrying two small
people, one in each arm. The giant woman, naked as her birth, glowed from all
her flesh with a silver light that shone especially from her face and breasts,
and almost blindingly from the spot at the top of her cunny. She was
beautiful, huge and strong. Her round, giant muscles, spherical breasts, and
perfect, rolling hips over thighs bigger than a small man's chest added up to
the perfect vision of feminine physical power that no man could resist. Her
arms were rock-steady, as the man and woman clung to her stony back and
shoulders, each pressed to the side of one huge breast. Fergus, her pretty
little man, was busily nuzzling and sucking her nipple, totally entranced in
her presence, safe in her grasp. The smaller amazon woman gazed up at the
light of the giantess' eyes in worship, plainly seeing the presence of the
goddess whose power she aspired to wield. Her body writhed against the silver
flesh of the Giantess. It seemed to shine, itself, with vitality and strength.

For Suzanne, it was a delight to gaze out over the people who had answered her
call, the call of her Goddess, Maeve the Mighty. The small crowd looked
healthy and happy, standing mostly naked, their bodies glowing with strength.
The women were almost all bigger than the men, armed with swords and spears.
Some of the men bore arms as well, but many of them clung to their women's
bodies, pressing their lips to the muscular bodies they now worshipped. Men
who formerly ruled their women were now plainly smaller and weaker, their male
muscles overtaken by the growth of the women, now soft compared with their
magically-strengthened lovers and wives. Some of the older men had trouble
accepting their wives' new muscle - Suzanne laughed softly as she watched some
mature farmwives, their bodies now youthful and strong, hold their husbands by
the hair, or crush their arms as they pressed the men's lips to their bosoms.

Suzanne, made her way to the platform that had been built for her on the
porch, and sat down on the edge, her huge legs easily lowering herself and her
lovers to the seat. She allowed Fergus and Mefanwy to slide down to stand
beside her, and Mefanwy walked to stand with the coven, and Fergus knelt
before his Lady. She raised herself before him, then bent down and lifted him,
letting him dangle before her. Her huge, pillowy lips engulfed his mouth as
she slipped a hand under his ass, and lifted his legs to slide him between her
spread thighs. She whispered to him, "Mmmm, you're still hard as rock, little
one, and so big ... " She reached down and worked his cock, and he felt the
power of the ring flow into it, as it grew from twelve inches another inch or
two, and thickened. "There," Suzanne growled, "now your cock is bigger than
your forearm ... just right for your Mistress." She took him by his arms, her
big hands crushing his thin muscle, and slipped him under her, then lowered
herself onto his enlarged cock.

Fergus gazed in worship and a little fear as his giant lover began to pump on
his cock, her thighs like steel springs, keeping most of her weight from
crushing his small body to pulp beneath her. Her huge breasts swayed and
bounced, her face smiled out over her folk. She pulled back a little and
stroked his length across her clit, and she came again, her pussy clamping
like a fist, still riding him hard. His cock was tingling with a hot light,
his flesh trembling with lust, but he could not come without leave, so his
body went soft beneath her, as she brought herself again. Each time she came,
a wave of silver light flowed from her body, over the meadow. Her breasts and
face shone like a triple moon, and Fergus felt the magic flowing through his
own flesh, bringing that small, male charge of strength and life, so much less
than the flow given to the women. Suzanne herself became several inches
taller, her calves and thighs pressing tight against his body as she rode. She
sat straight and flexed her arms, displaying her mighty muscles for her folk.

In the assembled people, the silver light washed over and through each,
bringing a tingle of magic and lust. The men felt their cocks rise
involuntarily, and found themselves drawn to the bodies of the women near
them. Most of the women were, by now, as big as or bigger than their men, with
much more muscle, and the women gathered their little lovers into their arms.
Swords and spears were stacked aside, colored scarves and skirts fluttered to
the ground as the giantess moaned again, and another wave of shimmering silver
moonlight flowed from her body. The women sighed or shouted as a group as they
felt their muscles grow just a little thicker and harder. Men were pressed to
the ground, the women climbing on to ride their cocks or mouths. The men, too
felt a touch of the ring's power, making them grow with lust, focusing their
minds on the bodies of the women, and they knew that even they grew just a
trifle stronger. The women got ten times more good from the ring's light than
the men, they knew, so every time they worked the magic, the men were left
just a little weaker than their women.

And so the orgy of the witches began. Soon the sounds of hymns of praise began
to rise from the mob of enchanted lovers, the image of mighty Goddess Maeve
filling their minds as they got the blessings of the Magic Ring. If we could
see them from above, we would see the shining form of the giant witch,
illuminating the little clearing where she and her people make love. The
clearing is larger than the settlement - the witches have cleared the wood to
make a secure zone around their camp - but it is not very large. It is
surrounded by the greenwood - unsettled forest, never cut in human memory,
that stretches as far as the eye can see. The silver light doesn't do more
than peek into that darkness, now well after sunset. In that wooded darkness,
there is movement.

"This way, Father," a soft voice said as two black-robed figures slipped from
out of the darkness of the forest to stand at its shadowed edge. Their black
hoods shadowed their features as well, and they were invisible from the
Witches' settlement. The taller of the two figures emerged after the shorter,
and said, "You spoke true, it seems." The male voice continued, "This is
surely the nest of Witches of which we have heard."

The priest looked down into the bright blue eyes of the little nun. Beneath
her wimple her red hair was cropped short, he knew, but her eyes were lovely
and her lips full and soft. He knew, as well, that beneath her habit were
full, round breasts, a tiny waist and wide hips. He knew this because Sister
Anna had been his lover for over a year. It would be more than a century
before his church required an oath of celibacy and it was not unusual for a
priest to keep a nun as his doxy. The little Irish girl was the lesser
daughter of a farming house and she had fallen easily to the seduction of the
security and supposed safety of the religious life. When the educated and
nobly-bred Father Reynard attempted a further seduction she was easily led.

Father Reynard Fitzgerald was the third son of a Norman knight, given to the
church at the age of nine years. Clever and handsome, but too slight for
warrior's work, he received his consecration at the age of 16, even as his
contemporaries were being knighted. He was pleased enough to avoid the
strenuous work of a squire or the dangerous life of a knight. His place as
priest in the little Saxon town and his pleasant liaison with the red- haired
nun offered a comfortable life. Still, Father Reynard had his eye on
advancement. If he could provide the key to stopping these evil brigands he
would gain great favor with both his bishop and with Baron Robert. Reynard
brought little faith and a fair portion of ambition to his efforts to find the
witches.

Sister Anna had heard of the witches by the oldest of means - the chatter of
women at the well. She had heard a whisper here and a rumor there until she
saw two farm-wives carry off a large barrel of water on ropes, like two lovely
cart-horses for strength. Sister Anna had begun to make quiet noises of
sympathy, and in time she was told how to seek the camp in the forest, and a
few words about how things lay, there. "Bring your lover, if you have one,"
they told her, and her head filled with ideas.

Now the two stood at the forest's edge. Behind them waited a score of the
baron's soldiers. Reynard could not command the best of the garrison, and
these men were young, mostly, and untried. Still they were armed and armored
and, supplied with gear and horses, were ready to keep a long watch on a
brigands' camp.

"Listen father," the nun whispered, "remember what I said - the folks all say
that in this band it is the women who are stronger, while the men will
probably not come out to fight." This brought a chuckle from the priest, and
from the tall captain who had come up to listen. "Superstition, Sister," he
said, and he took her arm in his hand squeezing, "No woman can have the
strength to stand against a man." Sister Anna kept her mouth shut as the
priest's slender fingers squeezed her farm-girl arm, answered, "Just take care
- these brigands have beaten soldiers before." "Aye, and so we shall be at
them with stealth and strength - remember, men, camp here in the forest -
disguise yourselves well, and wait for word from Sister or me. We may drive
straight for the hellish witch-mistress or seek some further stratagem. Our
work is to capture the witch Suzanne - we think that without her the band will
break. Now let us find a place in the forest where we can be unseen."

The soldiers melted into the dark, as Reynard and Anna stood for a few minutes
to watch the witches. The meadow is flat before them, and they can see the
figures of men and women moving in the act of love - the women pressing their
men to the ground, locking them in their arms and legs. "Look at them, like
demons on the very earth," the priest snarled, his theology overcoming the
immediate lust that rose in him. He felt the woman's hands stroking his body
as she put her arms around his waist and hugged him. Anna was perhaps 6"
shorter than the priest, and she had been softened by convent life. Reynard
enjoyed her tiny arms and thighs, much smaller than even his slender muscles,
making him feel rather the strong man. "It is not so different from what we've
done, Reynard," she said, snuggling up to him. "Let us look a trifle more
closely." She drew him a few steps out from the trees, into the clearing.

As the two stepped into the moonlight, the silver light overhead was mixed
with a distant glow of the silver light that shone from the witch over her
people. Reynard reached around the woman's body, letting his hand cup her
heavy round bosom. As they stepped a few more steps into the light, he felt
her hand reach down to cup his cod, his cock growing quickly under her hand.
She urged him forward again, and his eyes seemed to be filled with the silver
light. "Look," he whispered, as his fingers found her thick nipple, "is that
the idol of their goddess? See how the moon shines from the polished marble
... " His feet seemed to move closer of their own accord. "Yes, Father," the
little woman whispered, as she led him toward the light, "and see how her
great bosom heaves as she breathes ... " "Yes, it ... " he paused, but her
hand was working his cock, and, somehow, he just wanted her too much to argue,
"Yes, it's heaving ... look at her ... " his lover 's arms closed harder
around him and now he rushed to keep up with her as they walked toward the
beautiful, hot light as his lover's arms grew tighter, and harder.

In the center of the mob of witches, Suzanne sat upon her throne. Fergus was
kneeling before her now, his small body dwarfed by her thighs, as he continued
to generate delight in her, generate the power of her orgasms. The bright
magic flowed through him as well, his giant cock still hard, his stamina
unending while he was pressed into Her pussy.

Suzanne was in a high and wild state, her mind lifted, strengthened and
widened by the flow of the Goddess' power. In one way, she was the plowgirl
Suzanne - the lusty young woman who wished she was strong enough for
swordplay, but was strong enough to make her handsome Fergus her slave. But
she was also the Witch Suzanne, who sought knowledge where others turned in
fear, who wanted to be strong in every way, strong with the secret powers of
the spirits. And as the Witch, she knew what had happened ... the Goddess
Maeve had come into her. She loved the very nature of the power that the
Goddess had given her; she flexed her right arm and reveled in the mountain of
muscle that responded. But it was the light that held her mind, even as it
held the minds of her folk. She reached down to gently, so gently, press her
man's face into her shining, dark, purple cunny, felt his mouth take her
clitty again and she ran a hand up her body, over her perfect, round solid
bosom to lay it upon her breastbone above her breasts. Her other arm she
raised, palm outward, the muscles in her great arm rippling, her palm shining.

Suzanne let her mind expand with the shining of the light. She felt her
awareness join that of her coven nearby - there was Torwyn the Bard crushed in
his red-haired warrior's arms, there the Priestess leaving her marks on the
Captain's chest and neck - she felt their moments and was present in them. Her
mind opened to the folk, spreading out to each man and woman, to them all in
their experience, and even to the grass, to the birds as they flew in the
light. And there, out near the edge of the forest, she saw the priest and the
nun, trapped in her light, drawing nearer. She tuned her eyes toward them, in
her mind, and it was as if she could see the lust in the red-headed woman, the
fear and lust in the taller man.

Just at that moment Fergus brought her a new wave of pleasure. It filled her
with the light, hardening her body and allowing her to direct her strength
into the eyes of the distant couple. The woman - Anna - was already responding
to the light, her body growing, muscles thickening, and she tilted the man's
mind just a little so that he felt overwhelmed with lust for his lover.

In the meadow, Reynard found that he could hardly keep up with Anna as she
rushed toward the witches. "Wait," he said, commanding her, and planted his
feet to stop her. He grabbed her arm and pulled hard, meaning to turn her into
his arms. Instead she stopped suddenly and he found himself swept against her,
her lips on his, her hand pulsing his hardening member, the light filling his
eyes, her light, as they sank to the ground.

Anna felt a tingling power fill her, and, to her amazement, felt her body
filled with strength. She squeezed the priest, and it seemed as if her muscles
grew and hardened as she squeezed. She had always considered the Father, with
his scholar's body, to be a weakling - any of the boys of the village could
have broken him in half. Now he seemed slender and soft in her arms, and she
easily pressed him to the soil beneath her. He struggled and raised his voice,
"Get off of me, woman," he grunted, as he tried to roll her over. Anna grasped
one of his wrists and pulled it over his head, then the other, his strength
seeming worthless to her, and reached down to raise his robe, dragging it up
and finding his cock, freeing it from his drawers. She crushed his mouth with
her own red lips, and pushed herself down on his cock without any further ado.
As she took him in, she felt another rush of power and, shocking her, an
immediate orgasm.

On her dais Suzanne lived the experience with the couple in the grass. The
light vibrated with their experience as Anna experienced the joy of new
strength and vigor, the wild sensation of muscle growing stronger by the
moment. She loved the feel of Reynard's fear and lust, overwhelmed and
helpless in the arms of a lover. The witch sent a wave of power flowing to
them, while she let the whole valley resonate with their emotions; a wave of
moaning and delight flowed across the gathering with that feeling.

Reynard was terrified, as the woman he had known seemed to become a demon. He
was pinned and helpless as she rode his member, and she seemed to become
heavier, crushing his body with her suddenly-huge chest and back. She moaned
and he felt her clench on him ... hard ... as she stretched, her arms and
shoulders tearing away the sleeves of her habit. She flexed her arms, and
Reynard saw thick muscle swell. Was she so much taller? She tore the wimple
from her cropped hair, and tore away the rest of the cloth from her neck and
shoulders. His hands were resting on her thighs as she pumped him, and now he
squeezed them, finding them rock hard ... did they become thicker under his
hand? The delight in his loins made him press his hips upward into her, but
she crushed him flat with her thrust, then ground herself on him, heavy and
hard. Then she reached down, put one big (big!) hand behind his neck and
squeezed ...

Anna was full of lust, her body filled with a kind of fire and presence she
had never known, even in her moments of mystical transport in the nunnery. Her
awareness seemed equally present in her pussy and in a flame that reached high
above her own head. She seemed to be changing into a woman who was naturally
strong and capable, sure in her mastery and strength. That her body was
growing large and strong just seemed natural, and the sensation of her muscles
swelling, bones lengthening, breasts rising, sex tightening ... well, she
wasn't thinking about that in words ...

Her clothing constrained her arms and shoulders; when she stretched it tore
away, revealing her flesh. She dimly remembered that she had been taught
modesty, but with this delight in her she could not want her skin away from
open air. She flexed her arms and laughed loud when thick slabs of muscle
swelled. She loved the feel of the cock in her and she looked down at her
Reynard - so little now ... and slammed herself down on him, twisting and
tightening on him, the effort swelling her long thighs, and reached down to
lift him by the back of the neck - he seemed so light and slight, as she tore
his tunic down from the neck, exposing his chest. She undressed his upper body
like a doll, ignoring his whimpering efforts to prevent her. She leaned down
low and kissed him, and his resistance seemed to fail, as his hands ran over
her hard flesh.

Reynard's mind too, was filled with light. His body wanted to be pliant and
open to the lips and tongue of this demon. She milked him like a fist, but he
seemed to stay at the brink, never finding release. Suddenly she lifted
herself from him, leaving his hard cock cooling, and stood. She stood taller
and taller - six feet tall if she was an inch, and her body was magnificent in
strength and proportion. Shame gripped Reynard - this nakedness, this
perversion of male rulership ... then he raised himself and wrapped his arms
around her thick, hard thigh, laying his cheek against it, unable to sustain
separation from her flesh.

Anna stood tall, the fire in her mind shining, and gazed across the meadow.
She smiled as her little priest clung to her body, heard a small sob come from
him as he pressed his face into her hips. Her eyes seemed to lock with the
figure on the Dais - the great silver-white amazon with upraised hand. The
giant's lips moved and Anna heard her say "Bring the priest to me, daughter."

Suzanne experienced it all, perhaps she caused it all, perhaps she just nudged
and empowered. She was, in some way, One with the happenings of her spell. So
when Anna erupted into yet another orgasm Suzanne had a look into the minds of
the couple. She saw much - the plot and the soldiers, the church and the
love-bed, and the halls of the keep of Baron Robert. In that moment she might
later say that she was shown a path by her Goddess. She might say that she
invented it herself. She might try to explain, but the fact was that in that
moment a way became clear for her, and she decided to follow it, come what
may.

She locked her gaze on the distant eyes of the new amazon woman (and what a
transformation ... had she ever transformed anyone that swiftly?) and asked
her to bring the priest in. The young woman swept the smaller man up in her
strong arms and began to stride across the meadow. The man struggled, but was
easily restrained, arms and legs banded by the woman's muscle.

"Attend, my people," Suzanne's booming voice rang out, and her folk paused in
their pleasure, looking up to see the unusual figures coming in from the
meadow. There had been a very few new arrivals since the Grand Sabbat, but
this was the strangest - a woman plainly already transformed bringing her man
in from nowhere. Wasn't that the priest? Reynard? A muttering cry rose among
the witches, seeing the man who had so often denounced their ways from his
pulpit, backed by the swords of the Baron's men. Yet here he was, obviously
helpless, as he was brought before their mistress. "Break him, sister," was
heard, and "Let me get his loins in my hands." The crowd surged toward Suzanne
as Anna brought the man before Suzanne. At close view Suzanne looked more
human. The light was not so visible, the warm round form of her flesh seemed
human, yet divinely enlarged and perfected. Her eyes and face were smiling.
She gestured to the tall, iron-haired woman beside her, "Take him and hold
him," and the woman, well taller than Anna, wider and deeper in flesh, stepped
forward and held out her hands. Anna gently handed her lover to the witch,
complying happily with the giantess' will. The older woman locked Reynard in a
'nelson' hold, lifting him from behind, stretched across her big chest, feet
dangling. Reynard's cock stood at attention still, bobbing in the air, and a
giggle passed through the women as they noted its reasonable form.

Suzanne reached out a hand and stroked Anna's face, standing two feet taller
than the new amazon, making Anna's new strength feel like a little girl's
before her mighty limbs. Suzanne said, "Do you come of your own free will,
daughter?" Anna suddenly felt every restraint and influence lifted from her
mind. She clearly remembered all that had occurred, including her own plan
that had brought her here. She remembered all she had been taught in the
church, and all she had learned in the bed of her lover, and all she had felt
as her body had been remade in this marvelous way. She raised her chin and
swelled her chest, slabs of muscle thickening with pride and said "In free
will and good will, with word of ... " "SSSShhh ... " Suzanne said, placing a
finger on her lips, "later for that. Now since you have come of your own free
will, strip off those rags!" And Anna did, standing naked before them all. And
then and there the witches worked the rite of initiation, stripping the
Christian baptism from the former nun and introducing her to the Goddess, in a
more formal way. Suzanne had not released her Fergus - he still clung to her
loins, softly busy - and they returned to the high, wild delight of the Ring's
spell. Finally, the giant witch came to Reynard, and took him from the woman
to whom he had been passed while the old priestess did her sacred rites.

Reynard's mind had retreated into silence. He could not control his body - the
women were so strong, he had bruised and twisted himself until he stopped
fighting their iron hands. The light was so strong - his shame and outrage
seemed the whimpering of some beast, and he may not have known that he himself
was whimpering just so. They had handed him around as different women were
needed for the heathen rite - now he was held in the huge hands of a woman
half-again as broad as him, who was smiling grimly as she slowly crushed his
arms in her grip. "My legs are broader than your waist, weakling. I hope the
Mistress gives you to me - maybe I'll snap your legs under my heels, first ...
" "Give him to me, Wenda," he heard, in a giant voice. The big woman turned
him about, and dragged him to the mistress. Reynard's heart froze with terror
as he approached the giant woman. He was bruised and crushed from even casual
handling by the witches, what would this one do. If his lover had appeared a
demon, the giantess was like a queen of hell - her giant limbs and bosom
obviously able to break him without effort. To his hazy eyes she seemed to be
crowned in flames, her eyes blazing, her great hands reaching out and taking
him from the woman, lifting him effortlessly, his feet dangling as she held
him before her eyes. Once again he heard mutters from the crowd, but the demon
woman just pressed his mouth to her huge, soft lips, kissing him roughly and
crushing his arms into his sides as she held him in the air. She said,
quietly, to him, "It does not matter what your will is, toy - you have been
brought here and you will serve me, and serve your Anna, with your frail body.
Among us you are a weakling, like a little girl among your warrior men. Do not
fight her, and she will not have to break your bones if she doesn't wish to."
The giantess gathered him into her arms, and pressed his face to her huge
breast. Despite himself, he couldn't resist kneading and lifting it, massive
and heavy, and bringing one nipple to his mouth to suck. "Fergus," she
murmured, and she came again, reaching out a hand to rest it on the back of
Anna's neck. As the Ring's power flowed again, Anna felt her body grow a
little denser, a little harder. Reynard felt the same, his aches relieved, his
little muscles made a little stronger as he greedily sucked at the witch's
nipple. Then he was pulled away, lips open, and handed back to his Anna (his
demoness), who again pressed his lips to her own nipple. He still felt tiny
and soft in her big arms, but at least she was of human size. He found her
high, round breast irresistible, and sucked gently as she gathered him into
her arms.

"Aedwynna, show her to a house, where she can spend the night teaching him.
Teach him to obey, Anna, he's yours now, to have or to break. Sisters and men,
we will abide by Anna's will, for this little rooster of a priest is hers."

The elder priestess led the couple away, into a dark hut, with warm rugs and a
small hearth, and there they spent their first night together ...

In the Forest the soldiers camped, waited - they were used to brigand hunts,
whether they took a week or a month ...