blquick
patreon
The Book of Spel.
🕑 Added 2023-03-02 09:39:06 +0000 UTCAre you ready for a wild ride? ;)
Mrs. Harrison, Mrs. Bright, and Mrs. Smith were spending this lovely spring Wednesday evening drinking champagne and lounging in their bikinis in Mrs. Harrison's hot tub.
We had seen them there, in the distance, lounging on the veranda of the Harrison's stately mansion as we passed on our mountain bikes following the treeline at the edge of the Harrison estate, tracing the creek to our old hideout deep in the woods.
It was a lean-to house we had built in high school with spare boards leftover from my dad's construction project. There a stack of bottles still remained in one corner of the shack, leftover from our graduate celebration twelve months before
It was spring break and we were back — clinking beers and discussing the exploits of our first years in college. Phillip, Hunter, and myself.
In the midst of a lively discussion, Phillip produced a book. It was bound in dark brown leather and embossed with faded gold.
Spel.
We gazed at wonder at the tome and all agreed it was quite a find, even though Phillip had stolen it from deep in the dusty recesses of his campus library. He opened it carefully, settling it on the old card table that served as the center of our meeting space. Whatever faint sunlight that remained as dusk settled over the forest shone in through the cracks in the boards, revealing small specs of dancing dust and illuminating the gold-line pages as Phillip flipped through the book.
"The illustrations were done by a monk," he pointed, "see, you can tell. See how everything is carefully illustrated in this particular style. This had to have taken years to make."
"Who wrote it?" I asked.
"It's not clear. Although it is apparent this was made for a selective audience."
"How do you know?"
Phillip carefully flipped to the back of the book. 1 ab 3. "There." He pointed at the inscription. "One of three."
"That's impressive but do any of these spells work?" Hunter butted in.
"That's the thing." Phillip looked up quite ominously. He flipped confidently to the first few pages of the book.
The page was titled in ornate lettering. Lytel Blaese.
Hunter's face contorted as he cleverly applied modern English phonetics to the ancient spelling. "Ly-tel Blay Ease?"
"It's Little Blaze."
"Then why is it spelled like that?"
"Honestly Hunter — this is Old English. This is an ancient book."
"If it's English, then why don't they spell things properly?"
We looked at Hunter shaking our heads. "Hunter, do you think you could go back seven-hundred years to some pub in Britain and successfully order fish and chips?"
He puffed up into a lordly stance, holding his beer with pinky out, and retorted quite regally, "Why yes, Lord Phillip, fysh n chypse, melord! And quickethly too!"
"Not bad." I clapped. "He'd eat like a king."
Phillip shook his head, and then read the spell.
"Forsw¯ælan mîn sîðfæt hwônlic bladesian mid yfelian nâ besw¯ælan mîn locfeax!"
Quite suddenly a little flame rose from above Phillip's head. It illuminated the room, coursing above him without so much as singeing his hair.
"Holy fuckin' shit!" Hunter exclaimed, falling back to the floor and spilling his beer into the dirt floor. It bubbled and spread. Light flicked on the walls of our ramshackle cabin. The flame rose from the top of Phillips's head to the roof but did not burn it. Feeling no warmth against my face, I stood carefully and reached my hand toward the flame. Then moved my hand through it.
"It doesn't burn."
"It's merely a light to guide my way. And watch — " Phillip consulted the book a moment and said, "Edhwyrfan!"
The fire went out. Like if you licked your fingers and quickly pinched the wick of a burning candle. A sizzle and a small line of smoke rising and fading away to nothing.
"That was amazing." Hunter leaped up and flipped through the pages. "Can I try one?"
"You want to risk our lives on your pronunciation of spells that actually work?"
He fell back. "Good point. I'll stick to fish and chips."
Phillip laughed. "There are many amazing spells in this book. And I promise we will try them all. Together. But tonight, one spell stands out as compelling to me."
"Which one?" I asked while I kicked Hunter's beer bottle into the pile with the others.
"Do you recall passing the Harrison estate this evening?"
We nodded. We sure did.
"And what did you see when you passed it?"
We chuckled.
Phillip answered for us. "The three hottest MILFs in town."
Hunter guffawed. "That's an understatement. God, to think that asshole Bryce has such a charming and beautiful mother. How did such a prick come from someone so angelic?"
"They are rather curvaceous," I noted.
"Mrs. Harrison, Mrs. Bright, Mrs. Smith. Beauties, all!" exclaimed Phillip.
"Nicolette, Felicity, and Deborah," Hunter interjected.
"Wow, you know their names."
"But of course." Hunter smiled and raised his eyebrow regally.
"Well, they are in their early forties, right? They've had time to fill out. To age finely like wine." Hunter spoke, suddenly taking on the same lordly air he had taken ordering his olde English fish and chips.
I laughed. "Hunter is a Connoisseur"
We nodded together. In this instance — he was.
Phillip let the silence linger as we remembered their lavish forms on the veranda — breasts held precariously in skimpy bikinis, lithe hands holding champagne glasses.
Bubbles rising to the surface. The bubbles of hot water lapping their skin. Bubble butts perched plumply in position on the periphery of Mrs. Harrison's positively plush jacuzzi, bouncing in giddy conversation, bikinis cutting perfectly to separate their luscious butt cheeks.
Phillip flipped to a page in Spel. and set his finger down.
Vesselle.
"The Vessel Spell. Part of the page is ripped off but it doesn't look like anything important. The spell remains and it's very interesting. It says here it allows the casters to inhabit another for a few hours."
"What does this word say?" Hunter pointed to the words leading up to the tear in the page.
"It says 'If thou dost —'"
"If thou dost. . . That doesn't sound like it's going anywhere good."
Phillip responded in restrained frustration, "No, it doesn't, does it? Unless you consider, Hunter, that most every spell in this book ends with 'If thou dost wish to return, say 'Edhwyrfan.'' I'm almost sure it's the same entry for this spell."
We nodded. It was a reasonable explanation and we trusted Phillip — taken in raging home-from-college testosterone we were willing to bet on good enough explanations. But then, our faces scrunched up. "Phillip. Do you want to inhabit their husbands? I don't think that's a great idea."
Phillip shook his head. "No. I don't want to do anything that uncouth. Besides — they're all away on business.
"So you're saying you did consider that?" Hunter said with a wry grin. Phillip looked back and bit his lip. He took a deep breath.
"It's simple, really. I don't know about you guys, but I'd really like to spend this evening lounging in a hot tub and drinking champagne. We have returned from college older and wiser, and I believe we have had our fill of old shacks for one spring break."
The cabin grew quiet, our minds settling into the idea of feminine bodies clad in skimpy bikinis and, for one night, moving from this shack to the opulence of the Harrison estate.
We looked at each other for a moment — and then smiled.
The cast was fairly simple. We approached quietly from the tree line on the left flank of the Harrison Estate and, hunched over, moved quietly towards the veranda.
By the dim flickering light of the veranda, we could see Mrs. Harrison returning from inside with a plate of delicious hors d'oeuvres. I licked my chops eyeing both the delicacies and her mature and generous curves.
Mrs. Bright and Mrs. Smith were chatting in the hot tub, arms stretched long behind them, champagne glasses in hand, discussing a new play that Mrs. Bright was directing at the village playhouse. Seeing the delicious morsels entering at stage right, they stood up and exited the hot tub to try Mrs. Harrison's delicacies, water dripping sensuously off their bodies, their bikinis seeming to glimmer in the white strings of lights that decorated the Harrison veranda.
At that moment Phillip let it rip.
"Forfaran me stêpan êow wel! Stilnes me galan êower hlêoðor!"
And in but a flash, all three women flopped to the ground in a big WHUMP.
We stood for a moment in shock.
"Holy shit! You killed them." Hunter grabbed his hair and moaned. "Three MILFs at an estate! Every Court Television channel is going to explode with our faces." Phillip stood to his feet in the bushes. "Hunter, chill! These spells don't kill people. They're simply on hold."
"On hold?!" Hunter screamed. "What is this — Customer Service?"
"Honestly, Hunter." Phillip leapt through the bushes and over the edge of the veranda heading towards the lump that was Mrs. Harrison.
In a panic, I called out quickly. "Dibs on Mrs. Harrison."
Phillip turned and smiled with a sprightly bounce, "Fine, kind sir. You have exceptional taste — and for that, you may be Mrs. Harrison," He then made a beeline to Mrs. Smith. "Hunter, you're Mrs. Bright."
Phillip strolled over to Mrs. Smith and lifted her. "Oh! I get it now — It's a body suit."
Our eyes shot to him. "A what?"
"Look." He turned the flaccid figure of skin, bikini, breasts, and hair that was Mrs. Smith in his arms and revealed an opening, lined with a lush material that looked and felt like soft, pink velvet. He touched inside. "God, this feels so soft. Oh, it's so nice!
Our eyes were wide with wonder as we both picked up our vessels for the night. "This is going to be so lovely to slide into." Phillip took his shirt off and unbuttoned his jeans.
I looked around nervously. "Hold on, Phillip. Do we have to be naked?"
"It's probably a good idea."
The veranda grew quiet as we fell into our individual reveries. Costuming. Putting on our vessels. Becoming.
I stripped down to nothing and dipped my foot into the soft pink velour, pulling Mrs. Harrison's leg onto mine. Then her thigh, up to my thigh. I did the same with the other leg and took a breath, doing my best to turn away and hide my erection from the others. My feet buzzed in the suit. God, it felt so good! — like the softest, snuggest blanket ever. I wiggled my toes and Mrs. Harrison's toes wiggled beneath me. Fuck. I could feel them. She was wearing a toe ring and feeling it around my dainty, well-pedicured toe made me whimper slightly and a long line of precum dripped from my swollen cock into the pink velvet of the suit.
I would soon be lifting the suit over my cock.
What would that feel like?
I tugged the suit downward for a moment, wondering if I could take it off. It did not give. Much to my surprise, it did not cede any of the ground it had already taken on its ascent up my legs.
"Phillip. I can't take the suit off."
"You should be putting it on."
"I know that! But I'm just saying I cannot pull it down. It's stuck on my legs."
"Remember, this spell works for a few hours. Likely once your foot is in you've committed to that time frame."
I nodded and turned, looking down hesitantly. I still had a lot of ground to cover. My cock pumped with my heartbeat, sending another string of fluid into the suit. I was really turned on. Unexpectedly. Beneath my cock lay my beautiful new legs. I swayed for a moment admiring them.
Then, mustering all of my courage, I pulled the suit over my cock, tucking it into the tight mound of Mrs. Harrison. It hugged back, and the softness of her pussy lips settled under my balls and supported them. Pulling them close. And suddenly at their base, down the middle, I could feel something open, flowering out to the world and settling pleasantly into Mrs. Harrison's wet bikini bottoms.
I stood for a moment, flexing. Oh, fuck. I knew what it was.
Oof. The suit was heavy. Most of the weight was in her large breasts that would shortly be in place once I rounded the suit over my shoulders. It had been a stretch to get this suit over my legs and crotch, but suddenly I was feeling more comfortable, not realizing that the suit had begun shrinking me to Mrs. Harrison's shorter frame.
I pulled Mrs. Harrison's flat tummy over mine, trying to ignore the way her bikini bottoms clutched my widened pelvis so invitingly. I tried my best to ignore how real everything felt
I reached down, somewhat in a panic, to check, and felt Mrs. Harrison's lower tummy, just to be sure. I pressed. My cock was there. I could feel its outline beneath my new skin. And then, just to be sure, I reached behind me to feel where the two sides of the suit connected — the line of connection my fingers would slip into to remove the suit when all of this was done. It was there. Everything was where it should be. It was all okay. I breathed a sigh of relief. All of this would work out fine. I then commenced to push my hands through the arms of the suit and then pull it over my shoulders.
God, Mrs. Harrison's tits were heavy. All of a sudden, with the suit rounding my shoulders her nipples sprung to attention. And more astoundingly — I could feel them. Her headlights were on, pressing hard into the soft fabric of her bikini. I wanted to touch them. I reached my dainty manicured hand slowly towards my heavy new tits. My arms were thin. My little hands were shaking.
A sudden exclamation caused me to jump in shock. My exploration was interrupted by Mrs. Bright proclaiming behind me. "My voice! Oh god, my voice!"
I turned to find an image I will not soon forget. The head of my friend Hunter with the alluring body of Mrs. Bright, her buxom figure, her luscious curves, right down to her beautiful feet. He had pulled her vessel right up to his chin, over his Adam's apple, and just like that his vocal chords had been taken in embrace. "Oh fuck, I sound like a woman." He tugged the suit down slightly in disbelief, but it wouldn't budge. He giggled. "I sound so fucking sexy." I eyed him in wonder — this would be my friend's voice for the next few hours.
I was getting so hard in Mrs. Harrison. I checked again, looking down but seeing nothing over the shelf of my massive tits. I stroked my tummy with my lithe feminine hands. Searching. It was there. The head of my cock pulsing and tucked, hidden beneath my tummy. I stroked the outline of my cock and bit my lip. I was achingly hard. I teased the perimeter with my long nails, growing harder, and feeling energy coursing down into my bikini bottoms and collecting into a little pink nub that was beginning to peek out of my folds. I was so close to coming. I wanted very much to slide a hand down beneath the hem of my bikini bottoms and circle my clit as I jacked off the outline of my cock with the palm of my other dainty hand. But finally, at the very edge of exploding, I caught my hand in the other and did my best to calm down.
I had gotten close. So close.
Just to be certain, I checked the line of connection that ran down my back again, finding it to be exactly where it should be. It had not faded into me. This was indeed a body suit, and I would be able to get out of it once a few hours had passed. I breathed a great sigh of relief and pulled the suit up to my chin to join Hunter.
I breathed again. Lighter. High-pitched. Melodious. I whimpered. "Oh fuck." I sounded like her. Mrs. Harrison had always had a lovely voice. I had always made a point to talk to her at carpool. We would chat about my semester and then she would turn and I would take in her lovely figure, the generous way her ass filled out her jeans. I swayed a bit feeling it behind me in my bikini bottoms. Perfect.
We all turned to face each other, no longer ashamed, our erections now hidden from view under our tummies. We stood there, in the same state of dress. Three curvaceous women clad in bikinis. Our eyes danced over each other's bodies, standing in a triangle of regard, drinking in the sumptuous curves of our vessels and occasionally casting a knowing glance to the male faces that smiled knowingly at how this evening was improving.
I looked down at the table beside me. At the silver tray of hors d'oeuvres. Carefully arranged delicacies for us to enjoy. I felt my plump ass behind me and the bulge of my tits against my biceps and realized quite deeply that I was the hostess. I stood up straight pushing my tits out. We all knew the last stretch would be the hardest, pulling the heads over our faces. I looked down at the long mane of beautiful hair that would soon course down my back and over the strap of my bikini, then I looked back to my mates.
"Are you ready, girls?"
They smiled.
The next ten minutes were the struggle of our lives. We stretched and moaned out in agony, trying our hardest to get the suits over our heads. The chin of my suit pulled into place, pouting out my bottom lip, but then I met strong resistance stretching the suit over the backside of my head. Everything fit so tightly. The suit eventually caught my ears, and large dangly earrings swung into the sides of my neck as I struggled to pull Mrs. Harrison's lovely tresses over the crown of my head. We called out, grunting and moaning, our little arms flexing with all their might.
Finally, we were successful. But it was quite a fight and in the ensuing struggle, our tits had bounced free of our bikinis and swung about in all directions. We fell into lounge chairs, breasts exposed, and lay for a good five minutes catching our breath, our breasts bounding with each inhale, our pussies wet from the struggle. I reached my tiny fingers up to my mouth and sucked them sensuously with my new, full lips. Mmm
Finally, my strength returning, I stretched my thighs wide and pressed them together, feeling the nothingness that now lay between them. "We did it," I muttered, tucking my massive left breast into one side of my bikini. "We really did it." I stuffed my other tit where it belonged and my nipples pressed hard into the fabric of my bikini. "Mmm. It's time to play, ladies," I said in a sultry, syrupy voice as I hooked my fingers beneath the straps astride the triangle of my bikini bottoms and spread my thighs wide.
We stood to our feet and slinked about, three sexy MILFs, laughing and giggling. Drinking champagne and eating delicious hors d'oeuvres. Our hands casually traced our curves, the sides of our breasts, and our sumptuous thighs, exploring every inch of our bodies in the hot water.
We turned the jets higher, and at that point our chatter around the jacuzzi grew very quiet as our hands, obscured by the tumult of bubbles in the water, pushed under our bikini bottoms and over our pussies. We eyed each other quietly, positioning ourselves over our respective jets, taken in their vibration.
We all knew what we were doing, no longer ashamed of an erection, mounds rendered flat and smooth between our thighs, we gradually began to moan out together, unashamed. We removed our tops and exposed our tits to the water, cluthing our nipples between our thumb and fingers, tugging away at our supple flesh, fucking ourselves with our fingers deeper and deeper and then circling our clits in desperation.
I thought of who could have been passing in the darkness at the edges of the Harrison Estate — what they might see and what they might hear — and it made my pussy so wet. I moaned louder, hoping for a witness to the female orgasm I was madly chasing. My hand settled into the trim little line of pubic hair cut strategically far away from the edges of my bikini, and I moved my fingers In a flurry over my swollen clit and watched in delight as Hunter and Phillip did the same
Eventually, with our fingertips and toes wrinkled from our long soak in the jacuzzi and with our pussies pleasured beyond measure, we strolled inside to try on Mrs. Harrison's lingerie, our backs already sore from lugging around our huge new racks. We didn't mind. We wanted to be well-endowed and undeniably feminine.
We tried on outfit after outfit, dancing and swaying together, and acting like giddy schoolgirls. At some point Hunter and Phillip spread their legs and pressed their pussies together on the bed. I watched them, touching myself, as they scissored to orgasm.
And that's what happened.
I suppose we lost track of time.
Which is why we called you —
It's a little embarrassing but we can't seem find the hem of our suits.
You know, the hem I told you about? The line down the back of our suits — the ones we would slip our fingers into to remove them — they are simply not anywhere to be found. Here, please look. Can you see it? We've looked like crazy. We simply can't find them!
Until we remove the suits, we cannot say Edhwyrfan! and return everything back to normal. We want things to go back to normal. We really do. I promise.
The lines were literally there two hours ago, I swear! We traced down our backs while we were in the hot tub to make certain. But now when we feel for them we simply find smooth skin.
And when we try to find the outlines of our cocks in the suit, we can't — even though we've been totally turned on the entire time and should be hard. It's not simply in our imaginations, we've all tried helping each other. We've really tried. Mrs. Bright — I mean, Hunter — was looking for the outline of my cock a while ago, running her beautiful hands along my tummy trying to touch the head of my cock for at least ten minutes with no success.
And I'm a little worried because when I was coming in the hot tub, I could feel my cock jolting inside of me. Did stroking my clit spark off a deeper orgasm in my cock hidden in this suit? I mean, we came a few times, and they were super strong orgasms. Like, body-quaking orgasms that lasted a long time and made our eyes roll back and our hands clench for something to hold onto. They were so amazing, and I swear I could feel my cock firing deep inside of me and the sensation of fullness deep in my pussy.
Maybe my cock is just flaccid inside of me? I mean, I did see a big white glob in the crotch of my bikini bottoms when I went to the bathroom and sat down to pee. I feel a little wet down there. Like something was dribbling out of me.
"I felt it, too, Nicolette."
"Me too. It dripped out of me onto the tile outside when I stripped out of my bikini. I flexed my pussy muscles and more dribbled out. It might still be there by the pool if we check. It shone a pearly white color in the veranda lighting."
"We didn't knock ourselves up did we? My husband would be — like — sooooo fucking mad at me if he came back from his business trip and found out I was pregnant."
See what I mean? Deborah and Felicity felt it, too. It wasn't just me. All of us came inside ourselves.
Also another thing has been bothering me — for some reason when I looked in the mirror as I was washing my hands, I noticed I was looking younger. Honestly, we've all begun to look younger. I mean, like, look at us! We don't look a day over 25, and it makes no sense! At this rate we're going to look like college sophmores in the next thirty minutes.
Felicity is worried that the suits could be locked and absorbing our energy to their advantage, but she doesn't seem as worried about it as I think she should. And even worse, I just remembered my husband is supposed to arrive home tomorrow — and what's he going to think If he finds his wife and her BFFs 20 years younger, lounging about on our lovely veranda?
You have to do something. You have to help us. Please.
The spell book is in the bushes. Go find it. It's called Spel. Hurry, I'm feeling so lightheaded. There's an empty feeling — here, right here, low in my tummy. And my panties are so fucking wet, but I haven't been in the hot tub for hours. Please, hurry, because I have a friend coming over at 9. You remember Mrs. Anderson from carpool, don't you? She's coming over for brunch.
The spell in the book was called Vesselle. Just hurry up and find the book and be sure to work quickly. We wouldn't want to say the wrong thing and end up as Mrs. Anderson.
Unless you wanted to.
.
Thank you for reading! More hot ones (and The Christmas Gift parts) on the way ;)
Comments
Towder
Absolutely loved this
