Morgan’s Curse, Ch. 1 of 4 by haramiru
Dive into "Morgan's Curse, Ch. 1 of 4" by haramiru, an enthralling erotic sex story that explores passion, desire, and the supernatural. Uncover forbidden secrets and tantalizing encounters that will leave you breathless. Join Morgan on an unforgettable journey of lust and intrigue. Read now!<br/>
Morgan Le Fay is out to kill Merlin for cursing her (sequel to Merlin’s Magic Wang) , Morgan’s Curse – Chapter 1 of 4
By Haramiru – haramiru@hotmail.com
http://haramiru.wordpress.com/
Disclaimer: This is an original work of erotic fantasy. No characters were consciously modelled after any actual people, or publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. Nonetheless, anything which may be construed as such are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Part 1a: The Sorceress and the Hound
“I’m so tired of this immortal bitch schtick,” I said to the vixen in the mirror.
Most women would kill to have the body I saw in the mirror. The one I was occupying at the time was around 25 years old, curvy in all the right places, and just starting to bulge a little in the midriff. Due to my curse, my body is always either pregnant or male. I can barely use magic in male bodies, so I’m just about always pregnant instead. I did get tired of not seeing the same face in the mirror for long, though.
I reached down and caressed my belly, thinking for a moment of the life growing within me. I wouldn’t stay in this body long enough to reach the uncomfortable stage, but I didn’t intend to switch for a while either.
Different pregnancies affected me in different ways. During some, I didn’t want to even touch men. During others, it was all I could do to keep from jumping the first man I saw. This one felt like it wasn’t drawn one way or the other, so I saw it as an opportunity to resolve some business matters which had accumulated lately.
My stomach rumbled a little, and I sighed. I lived in the penthouse suite of a very nice hotel in Las Vegas, which over time has learned not to ask questions about the many different people coming in and out of in its penthouse. The only thing they particularly care about is that the credit card, in the name of one Morgana LeFay, continues to accept whatever charges I deem necessary. I also occasionally cast a glamor spell so that I can walk in wearing the face which they’ve come to recognize as my own. Over my seemingly interminable existence, I’ve amassed enough money to buy several islands, if not a country. At this point, I only care about money because it keeps people off of my back. And if people are willing to ignore whatever twisted depravity which they imagine I’m involved in, they’ll never guess that I’m actually a cursed, displaced soul who possesses a new body every few months.
There wasn’t much point to dwelling on that, though. I was a few months out from needing a new body, but only minutes out from needing a waffle. I slid my lightly tanned, ladylike legs off of the side of the bed, slipped a silken blue bathrobe over my shoulders, and wandered towards my bedroom door.
My penthouse’s kitchen was right next door, in which my servant Argyle was already cooking a delicious repast. He glanced over at me as I approached, regarding my flawless body for a few seconds.
“Your tit’s out,” he casually observed. Glancing down, I saw that was indeed the case. “Damn, I’m not even lactating yet and these things are already growing,” I muttered.
Argyle shrugged and set a plate in front of me as he poured batter into the waffle mold. “A bit forgetful this time, eh?” he asked.
I shrugged. “Apparently so. Don’t get your hopes up, though. I won’t forget our contract.”
Argyle made a sigh that sounded like a car driving through a hailstorm of razor blades. “I’d had my hopes,” he observed.
I reached out and playfully tapped Argyle’s long, tapered ear. “I’m not such a horrid mistress, am I?”, I asked. “Besides, I can’t exactly leave you to your own devices.”
Argyle smiled, revealing the double rows of thin, needle-sharp crystalline teeth in the jaw under his bat-like face. “Some day I will be free again, my mistress. I shall taste once more the sweet blood of the innocent, then fuck them to hell.”
I thumped him on the back of his scaly, bat-like head. “Oh, be quiet. You know you prefer the taste of sinners anyway.” Argyle may be a lust demon, but as they go he’s relatively benign. In his more laid-back moments, he’s even confessed to preferring the diet of rapists and pedophiles which I’ve fed him throughout our professional relationship.
I folded one leg over the other at my suite’s dining table and my robe slipped open again, revealing the gentle bulge of my developing belly. Argyle set the waffle I’d been craving on my plate, along with strawberry jam and a fresh pitcher of whipped cream. He was an excellent cook for a demon, and just telepathic enough to know what I’d want for breakfast before I woke up.
My demonic servant waited patiently as I ate my breakfast, then set a tablet in front of me. It was open to my appointments for the day. “You have a meeting with Mr. Wulf at noon, at his place. You may want to consider getting ready.”
When I finished my waffle, I stood up and walked towards the bedroom. As I walked, I untied my robe and let it flutter to the floor behind me. I was now nude, walking down the hallway with a seductive sway to my ass. From behind, you couldn’t even tell that I was pregnant.
“Prepare the car, Argyle”, I commanded over my shoulder. I saw Argyle nod, and then came a dull thump and a whiff of sulfurous smoke. As the smoke thinned, I could see that Argyle’s demonic visage had been replaced by that of a handsome middle-aged black man in a suit.
I reached the center of my bedroom and turned towards my closet, spreading my arms and expending a little bit of Power. The door creaked open and an elaborate silk robe flowed out and flew towards me. The sleeves impaled themselves on my arms, then the robe wrapped itself around me. Lastly, a sash tied itself around me and set itself with a tug.
I lifted slightly off the ground as my high heels slid into place under my feet, buckling themselves onto me just before I sank to the floor. A tiara, necklace, and diamond earrings flew to me and completed the ensemble as I walked back to Argyle. He bowed, and I walked past him into the open door of my private elevator.
We rode my elevator all the way to the parking level, where my stretch Mercedes was kept in a private cage right outside. I slipped into the back as Argyle took his customary position behind the wheel and started up the car. The roll-up door separating my car’s stall from the rest of the parking garage opened, and Argyle drove us forward. A few turns later, we emerged from the parking structure under the hotel and made a turn onto the Vegas strip.
A while later, we were in one of the many outlying suburbs. Argyle pulled the car over in front of a nondescript run-down looking house with a big front yard.
“You’d imagine that he could simply conjure some painters”, I remarked as I stepped out onto the cushioned stool which Argyle placed in front of me. He placed the pillow back inside after I stepped off of it onto the driveway in front of Mr. Wulf’s residence.