//Experimental Thread// The Wizard College

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//Experimental Thread// The Wizard College

TrashPanda

Just a Humble Dictator of Dumpsterdom
Dungeon Master
Inner Sanctum Nobility
Local time
Today 10:55 AM
Messages
954
Age
33
Pronouns
He/Him
(still a work in progress)


The Wizard Tower is the last place to place the secret entrance of such that truly shares the love the use of the Arcane would be placed. The entrance was created by a rather strange Wizard that was flitting across the town. He came to an outhouse and placed a small hand on the door and with some words of the ancient arcane language. It shimmered and glowed for just a moment and with a small chuckle he placed his hand on the knob and spoke the special pass word that would later be given to the selected few that would be accepted into the College to expand their prowess of the different arcane traditions. He smiled and walked into the outhouse and when the unexpecting would walk up by themselves they would open it and find it to be a normal outhouse.


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What particular wizard had created this use of a outhouse as an entrance to the magical void that is the Wizards College is unknown. The Headmaster has kept such secrets to himself. Headmaster of the College was named Gerald Rapheal Von Ritter.
He is an older human gentleman with slicked back white hair and wrinkled skin to show his old age but his mannerism show he is one not to accept pity from others. He is known to be very strict and sees to the Colleges business as with the utmost attention. He doesn't take to kindly to the untalented few and wishes to teach those whom have potential to be better.

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Name: Gerald Raphael Von Ritter
Age: 70
Race: Human
Class: Bard College of Lore

The Main hall.
This is where the students gather before classes on each floor. Surrounding the outer walls of each each floor is a hallway that leads to either rooms where the students would stay if they come from abroad. And lack their own dwellings within the city's limits.

Each tradition of magic taught within the college has its own teacher whom excels in that tradition of magic. Each one taught on a different level. In the exact order placed below.


The List of Arcane Magics Available.

Teachers (Empty spots still needing to be filled)

1) Abjuration -
The Teacher of this certain type of magic is a Shield mage from the plane of Gobakhan. His name is Edeyo Marada. Taught within the first floor to represent the first teaching of all magic being how to defend ones self.

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Name: Edeyo Marada
Age: 19
Gender: Male
Height: 5'7
Weight: 150
Backstory: Is a Shield mage from the world called Gobakhan. Abandoned by his mother and father to a temple of monks. He had heard about the famous student that became a planeswalker and went off to join the Gatewatch. Edeyo seemed to be a rather foolish individual whom found fun in doing foolish things at times. When the Diamond storms would ravage across Gobakhan. He would be one of the front most mage. Holding his geometric shield magic to ward off the dangers of the storm when leading a group of merchants across the desert planes. That would normally tear apart a unshielded traveler. He usually sticks to silly antics when faced with serious situations.


2) Alteration -

3) Conjuration -

4) Evocation -

5) Enchantment -

6) Illusion -

7) Necromancy -
The teacher of the Necromance school of magic is a dark witch name. Valeria the Pale. She is not afraid to admit she had learned from the wandering Lich known as Joyrot. Who has been suspected to be the one to build the Wizard College from the ground up. She is rather strict when It comes to teaching and is not afraid to threaten a weak performer of death and resurrecting them within moments to share the experience of what death is. And to show how it should be feared and harnessed all the same.

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Name: Valeria Mordred
Age: 25
Gender: Female
Height: 6'0
Weight: 96 lbs
Backstory: Daughter of the esteemed Lord Percival Mordred. She left home in search to hone her magic within the art of Necromancy.

8) Temporal -

9) Chaos -
 
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Alzeria Berius, Age 47

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Alteration. Such a misunderstood, undeappreciated college. Often considered a province of brutish battlemages and uncouth circus performers, looking for a quick-and-easy way to enhance themselves physically for demands of their trade, skipping the intermediate stage of physical workout, to get results... often at the expense of mental faculties, and indeed, their very sanity. The Continuum brook no shortcuts - Alzeria knew this. Magical energies and mundane physical ones worked with one-another in harmony... such was the way of the Continuum, a truism that every mageling took to heart during their first months of stuides, a harmony that tolerated no disruption. In her practice, study, and mastery of her chose magical Art, she had come across many of those who sought to take shortcuts.

"It always hurts the most, when it is one of your own who falters.... and ends up like this." - the woman thought, crossing her girderlike arms, fists of which could turn rocks into fine powder, over her chest, rippling with ever-so-slightly unnatural looking musculature, complete with blackened, pustuled veins flowing from her neck to her chest, bearing mute testimony to the... complications... encountered along her path to Mastery. Hormonal imbalances, blood poisonings, nervous overloads... requiring frequent, and oftentimes painful, incantations and spells to keep in check, and indeed, to keep from endangering her very life. Even as the acknowledged master of Alteration - she, Alzeria Berius, the Afflicted... as her peers called her, not out of mockery or malice, but simple factual truth, would be the first to admit, that her path to it was far from flawless. The ashen hue of her skin, the way the air itself around her seemed to absorb some of the surface decay that had to be kept in check, every day. Her eyes were also affected - losing their colour aspect, as well as a considerable degree of visual acuity.

But at least her mind remained lucid, even brilliant in it's own way, even if her body became a monument to the flawed nature of humanity's understanding of the Continuum in general, and Alteration in particular. Her mind remained, and despite all the drawbacks, the benefits of her immersion into her Art, far outweighed them, in her considered opinion. She sought not power for it's own sake... she sought physical perfection, through Magic. Something she never had, as a child, being born sickly and weak. To Alzeria, the price to pay, was worth it.

Not so, however, for the one who now jerked uncontrollably in front of her, face misshapen one eye drooping below the other, one arm bulkier then the other, with deformed musculature, indicative of a spell gone very, VERY wrong, foaming from his mouth, wild-eyed, crying without even realising it, evoking a compassionate twitch out of the corners of her mouth, held in chains, between the two city guards.

Ellis Kirin. Once, a young, promising Journeyman mage, a graduate of her Alteration classes from two years ago... one whom displayed more promise then most, one who took to heart her warnings about disrespecting the Art, and advancing too quickly. One whom she was certain would one day achieve Mastery of his own, and perhaps start an Alteration class of his own, helping promote the often-misunderstood and maligned Art. Seeing him here... misshapen, crazed... brutalised - if the plum-coloured bruises on his back, face, and arms were anything to go by, the city guard was none-too-gentle with him.

"I see we will have some ways to go, yet." - her expression changed to one of exasperation, as she focused on one of the guards.

"I repeat; are you familiar with this individual?" - that guard repeated in an officious-yet-slightly-unsettled tone, eyeing the imposing, yet - grotesquely overbuilt - woman in front of him.

"When we arrested him after he vandalised the Elven Park, he maintained that he was a graduate of the College, and mentioned specifically you, before losing command of his faculties. As a subject of the College, the magistrate had decided to transfer custody to you, as his... "

"Losing command of his faculties... would that be before, or after you beat him up?" - she asked coldly, taking a half-step closer to the guard, her colourless, unsettling dark eyes narrowing. The man's hand instinctively brushed the hilt of the sword at his hip, even if he knew that he wouldn't get a chance to pull it out, and even if he did, the blade would likely shatter on impact with the woman's ashen-hued skin, no doubt as hard as stone. That, or be crushed into a shapeless clump of metal, in her grip. What her grip would do to his bones, would be orders of magnitute worse. Alteration was not to be trifled with, especially harnessed by an archmage.

"With all due respect, Archmage, we had little choice in the matter. He maimed four of us before we managed to subdue him, and only after summoning a Regulator to assist." - the man protested, standing his ground, even if his tone of voice betrayed a touch of fear. Even for law enforcement, facing a member of the College's court, was a daunting prospect.

Alzeria's lower lip twitched at that. Regulators. Like most of her peers, she despised them. But they were necessary. Magical enforcement officers employed by the city's constabulary, they were trained in the basics of Abjuration and Enchantment, enough to assist their more mundane colleagues in apprehending magic-capable offenders. The problem was - they weren't mages, per se. Their training was limited and specialised, and by design, meant to limit their further development into full Mages. They were, essentially... tools of the state. The College considered such restrictions unnatural, and even abusive.

"Necessary I suppose - but it doesn't make them any less of an aberration. All Magic not taught or learned structuredly, is an aberration. And purposefully limiting people's arcane potential in such a manner, is obscene." - the woman though in disgust, clencing one of her fists briefly, but kept it to herself.

Out loud, she spoke with a slight nod...

"Regrettable. You may deposit him here, and report back. Inform the magistrate's office that Journeyman Kirin will be lucid within a period of thirty-six hours, to face the charges levied against him. You may file a deposition report with our Praxeum official, who will issue you an official confirmation. Then you are to depart the College grounds. Posthaste. I won't have your kind soiling this place of learning." - her tone turning imperious, even disdainful, at the last part, before she motioned them to uncuff him.

For a moment, the officer looked disgusted. Mages and their arrogance... but he knew he had no choice. The College had claimed responsibility, and since the offendant was a member of it, it was out of the Constabulary's hands.

Wordlessly, biting back a retort, they did as instructed, then beat a hasty retreat, toward Praxeum building. Neither of the two were eager to spend any more time here then absolutely necessary. Especially in the presence of this woman. Alzeria waited until they were out of earshot, past the fountain the middle of the College's courtyard, before she knelt next to the broken, misshaped form, now squatting on the ground. She put a surprisingly gentle hand on his cheek, caressing it, making him look up at her. A trace of recognition seemed to spark through his glazed look.


"Ellis... why? Why you, of all people... ? After everyting I showed you, back then. You knew, how dangerous it is to experiment recklessly." - letting out a soft sigh, before she gently pulled him to his feet.

"I... I... M... Mistress Berius... I'm so sorr--" - but she gently shushed him.

"Let's go indoors. And see if we can't figure out what you did to yourself, these past couple of years." - in an almost-motherly tone, walking him to the ornate set of doors, leading into the College proper. Even by touching his body, her finely-tuned Alteration energies felt... disturbed. The amount of disruption coursing through his frame... the Continuum was severely out of balance.

He was in a bad way. To say the least. But the fact he was still alive, meant that the damage could perhaps be reversed.

Perhaps. But, as was so often the case with Alteration - altering oneself or another, was the easy part. Going too far, even easier. Restoring oneself to the previous form - often involved sacrifices to be made. And one was never the same again. Her own body and it's... decay... was evidence enough of that.
 
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***

"Good evening Mistress Berius!" - the class chirped in an almost-unison chorus, as soon as she walked into the classroom on the 2nd floor of the Tower, designated for Alteration studies.

"Is it?" - was the woman's half-joking response, as her dark gaze crossed over the assemblage of children, fifteen strong, aged eleven to fourteen, her lips twitching in ever-so-slight amusement. The sweep paused on one mischievous boy who looked like he was about to throw a paper ball at a girl three rows ahead. Her gaze narrowed slightly, and she made a slight motion with her left hand, murmuring an incantation under her breath...

...the paper ball in the boy's hand suddenly turned into jelly, and fused into his palm as a tumourous attachment, just as he was swinging to throw. He yelped in surprise, trying to shake off the inexplicable attachment that formed on his hand, but to no avail. It was as much a part of his body now, as if he were born with it. Several of the others laughed, including the girl, as he suddenly realised what had happened.

"I... I'm sorry. I won't do it again!" - he promised, on the verge of tears, giving Alzeria a beseeching look, cradling his deformed hand, the hunk of jelly flobbing from it.

"I should hope not. Next time, I'll fuse your hand to your desk for a day, as a practical example of organic-inorganic Alterium merger. Take it from me, spending time in wooden form, even partially, is unsettling for a first time." - the woman's smirk widened ever-so-slightly, as she winked at him. But she waved her hand again, muttering another incantation - the boy's hand returned to normal, as the paper ball fell away from it, to land on the floor - unchanged. He breathed an audible sigh of relief, now busy inspecting his hand in some wonderment.

Another of the consequences of her self-studies on Alteration, her range of facial expressions was limited, due to skin tensioning being out of norm, as well as partial calcification of her facial musculature and nerve-endings. A slight smirk was about the best she could do.

Underage class was certainly not her favourite, as she preferred to teach those who already posessed a degree of experience in entryman wizardry, as well as a degree of maturity to understand the dangers inherent in the pursuit of it. It made for more... productive tutoring, in her opinion. But the Headmaster's decree was clear - every professor had to have an underage class, in addition to their normal one. Personally, she wasn't too fond of it. A 'class' of rich, spoiled brats, ostensibly brought in to 'broaden their Arcane education and inspire young minds' - very few of them had any real interest in the Art. From experience and observation, Alzeria had discovered that an individual either had a natural affinity for the Arcane, and the Continuum, or didn't. Affinity also translated to interest. And out of the fifteen children here... she had pegged maybe three of them, to have any potential whatsoever. The rest just sat through her classes, but looked like they wanted to be somewhere else. They might pick up a few basics, but their hearts weren't in it.

Still, at least they were well-behaved during it. One of the first rules the children learned - mischief was NOT tolerated, during Miss Berius's classes. She never physically punished them - that was not her style. And frankly, anything other then a lightest touch from her, could kill a child, given her altered phyisical state and strength. But she didn't need to. One glance of her colourless eyes, coupled with her formidable and somewhat-decayed, unnatural bearing, was usually enough. It wasn't that they were afraid of her - she never gave them reason to be - but just her presence was enough.

"Today, we will do something a bit different then reshape model objects and splinter wooden planks. We are fortunate to have a practical example of an Alterium merger gone wrong." - she began without further preamble, taking off her headdress and laying it on her desk at the front, now just in her ornate dress and sandals. The headdress went onto a marble head fashioned in the likeness of her own... at least at first glance. The surface of the marble was subtly shifting and pulsing, as if it were alive... and the head's mouth moved as she spoke. It was clear that the head and her were - linked, somehow. Another of Alzeria's experiments, this one also had a deeper purpose. What that was, nobody knew. One of the woman's most closely-guarded secrets.

Was it a golem head? At one point to be mounted on an animated body? Golemancy was one of the things she dabbled in, as part of her Alteration experiments, but thus far, had not constructed a complete one.

As if on cue, another individual walked... or more precisely... shambled... into the classroom. A young man in his early twenties, misshapen, deformed, with a pronounced limp, wearing a simple blue Journeyman robe. His previously glazed look was more normal, his twitching had subsided for the time being - clearly the preliminary spells Alzeria had cast upon him, to attempt to stem and control the magnitude of Continuum imbalance within him, were enough to bring in back across the precipice of insanity - for the time being.

"H-hello, children. My name is... Ellis. A few years ago, I was a graduate of Mistress Berius's class." - the man spoke, in a tone laced with some pain, but under control.

A few children gasped in shock. A couple more, the boy included, tried to stifle a giggle at the man's appearance. And a couple just remained silent, some sympathy in their eyes.

"Wh-what happed to you, mister Ellis?" - one asked, hesitantly. The man gave the child a sad chuckle, a single tear sliding from his drooping eye.

"I failed to respect the... the Art. And now I am paying the price for it. I came back to the city, hoping to keep my wits about me long enough to seek my teacher's counsel and assistance. Alas, I lost my mind before I could reach the College. Now I have to answer before the law, as well." - he trailed off, as Alzeria picked up at this point.

"Journeyman Ellis Kirin here, has performed multiple Alterium mergers on various parts of his body, using different materials as templates. As you can all see, the resulting metamorphoses had not gone well. In today's class we will attempt to find out precisely which--" - before the boy interrupted.

"What's a...a template?" - with a puzzled expression on his face, to which another one scoffed, "Something used as a basis, dummy! You're--" - before Alzeria's alto interrupted them.

"Silence!" - with a chuckle. Still, it was encouraging, that at least some of them were capable of thinking and breathing at the same time.

"But yes. Ellis had used quite a few different materials, as bases for his Alterium experiments. Some of which did not react well with each other, especially when mixed up in his body. I have sensed quite a few heavy metals, for instance. Lead, zinc, mercury, antimony. As we know from our Alterium Organa tome and it's excerpts, we all have metals in our blood. Predominantly, iron. Which most of you should be aware of, if you had ever cut yourselves and suckled on your finger to stem the blood. It tasted metallic, didn't it?" - to which she got a few nods.

"When augmented with specific quantities of specific other elements, and I'm not just referring to metals, our blood and it's content, can serve as a medium for many wondrous and lasting changes to our body, as it propagates throughout us. Alterium Organa is an exacting discipline, however. Far more so then Alterium Anorgana. Reshaping and changing the substance of inorganic, dead objects is relatively easy, for a semi-practiced Alterationist. There are many dabblers out there, capable of turning rock into metal, wood into rock and so on and so forth. That aspect of Alteration is fairly common among enterprising wizards. If I wanted to, for example, I could metamorph this entire classroom, and a sizable portion of the Tower, into a crystal cavern." - one of the girls' eyes lit up at that, clearly wanting to see that, but Alzeria lifted up a hand, with a slight grin, before the child could speak;

"Perhaps another time, since I feel my colleagues would not appreciate such an interruption in the middle of their classes! Especially when it comes to Evoking things, crystalline structures tend to dampen the effects!" - with a private chuckle, remembeing a certain... incident... with her colleague heading the Evocation classes. Then she turned serious again, returning to the topic.

"When it comes to living beings, however... things can go awry." - as she glanced at Ellis again. He just gave a mirthless chuckle, lowering his gaze.

"I myself bear many scars, of failed Alterium Organa experiments." - she continued, "...some of which haunt me to this day. But all knowledge comes at a price. What our duty as wizards must be, is to insure that the benefits of knowledge always exceed its costs." - she paused, to let the point sink in.

"To this end, let us begin with building a hypothesis, on what precisely went wrong, for our friend Ellis. I mentioned heavy metals, and a mixture of them, that I discovered. While specific types of heavy metals in specific amounts, can confer great strength and endurance to a body when metamorphed properly, mixing them is generally not advisable. Who can tell me why the specific mixture I mentioned, is dangerous? Anyone?" - she waited expectantly, as a couple hesitant hands shot up.

The class moved on.
 
***

AN HOUR LATER, AFTER CLASS - ALZERIA'S PRIVATE STUDY


Having finished with the underage class less then ten minutes ago, Alzeria and her disfigured disciple had retreated to the privacy and seclusion of her sanctum, to continue their investigation into the nature and causes of the man's current predicament. While the children's input and theories were interesting to listen to, and debate on, and they certainly engaged the class more then usual - ultimately, they were no closer to formulating a treatment plan for Ellis.

"I m... must say... Mistress... I felt rather uncomfortable, b-being used for show-and-tell... in the classroom. My... failure... is already bad enough, without having those... brats... ogle over me. And I do not want pity! Or shame. In the end... wh--what did it accomplish?! Granted... the children benefitted from... a practical example to... discuss upon. But I did not... return here, to be an object of ridicule! Or pity. Or shame. Trust me, I'm ashamed enough as it is." - the man hissed through his teeth, slumping in one of the luxuriously padded, ornate chairs, dropping his head between his palms, at the sudden onset of headache.

"Hold still." - the iron-skinned older woman prompted gently, ignoring what he said for a moment, as she fetched a mortar and pestle, and began crushing together a number of exotic seeds, plants, and roots which she had in various jars around, into a rather muddy-looking mulchy greenish-violet substance. Once mixed up properly, she poured the mixture into a ceramic bowl, bringing it over an oil-burner. Then she began a very specific incantation under her breath, meant to enchant the substance, before she would begin rubbing it onto his skin. Finally, she spoke again.

"Pride is misplaced, in this grand institution, Ellis. Never forget that. And your shame, is our shame. The shame of our entire discipline. It is a burden we will all bear, until rectified. Feel no discomfort. We are all here for you." - she admonished him, her tone turning ever-so-motherly, for a moment. Then she returned her full attention to the simmering substance in the bowl.

Verbal spells and preliminary rituals were all well and good... but the Continuum imbalance within him, required more involved methods. Alterium Organa damage control was often a very hands-on process. Sometimes literally. And besides... she glanced briefly back at him. Even disfigured and misshapen, he was still... her favourite, out of all the male students, from that particular class. With a brief, ever-so-slight bite of her lower lip, her dark gaze briefly flicked lower, towards his crotch.

It had been too long. Far too long. And dealing with above-average ratio of underage classes as of late, compared to her normal curriculum which she preferred, had only further limited her opportunities for gratification. And the memories of the taste of him inside her, were still there, three years later. Clawing at her, since she had first laid eyes on him, after all this time. Making her moist. Yes, his current countenance took a bit of the appeal away... but not enough. If anything, her motherly instinct to make him well again, mixing with the urges... only made her desire him more. She could feel... pressure... between her iron thighs. Building, as she bit her lip a bit harder, turning her gaze back to the clay bowl, her eyes narrowing slightly, in self-recrimination.

But she couldn't help it. There was more to him being her favourite, then his scolastic progress. He satisfied her. Properly.

The young man looked up in some surprise, a number of expressions passing over his facial features. Anxiety, fear, anticipation, nervousness, elation ... arousal. He knew that... understated... hungry look, in those dark, colourless eyes. A part of him had hoped she wouldn't want him yet...

"At least not on the same bloody day..." - he thought, with a mental headshake, mixed with anticipation... and a trace of fear.

...but another part of him relished the prospect. His penis twitched, as blood flowed downwards, almost involuntarily, feeling his pants tighten. During his time at the College, he and a number of other senior male Alteration students, were subject of Alzeria's... not entirely subtle, or consentual, at times... overtures. The woman was an insatiable, hormone-imbalanced, sex-crazed, self-repressed nymphomaniac, with a particular taste for younger men, those urges carefully and meticulously hidden beneath her slightly-imperious, no-nonsense attitude, discipline, and professional pride. He was aware of the price she continually paid, for her delving into the depths of Alterium Organa. The way her body was altered, coupled with her increasingly-aloof personality, very few men would be comfortable getting involved with her in any kind of relationship, intimate or otherwise, despite how very, very promiscuous she was. So she took advantage of her position, with certain male students, to... force the issue.

Clearly in the past years, not much had changed. And as before, he was filled with conflicting emotions. He knew he wouldn't be given a choice. Oh, he would be given an illusion of one... at first... but if he resisted, she would rape him anyway. Never forcefully, never... bluntly. That wasn't her way. But she would make his body beg for it, make his mind... submit. She would make him wither at her touch, and explode at her bidding. She had a way with physical stimulation, with or without the use of magic, and libido had a mind of it's own. And frankly, even that part had it's appeal. Dominant females were few, and far between. Especially ones with her... skills, and kinks. Not to mention her utterly insane sex-drive, made even more so by the paucity of opportunities to express it.

"Alzeria... is this t-truly the time for--?" - he began, biting his own lip as he shifted in the plush chair, but she cut him off, her tone somewhere between meditative, determined, aroused, and authoritarian. "The time for what, precisely? The time for more useless attempts at conventional spellcraft, prolonging your suffering? The time for risking more failed Alterium mergers?! The time for such half-measures is over and done, my dear Ellis. Your condition demands radical action!" - she turned her head again, glaring, pure lust mixed with latent anger, in her gaze.

"The Continuum abhorrs half-measures, Ellis Kirin. As do I." - her tone changing to clipped, governess-style, with desire bubbling just under the surface, her glare that still contained that latent undertone of anger covered by lust, intensifying.

She straightened fully, turning around, slowly unclasping her elaborate, delicate dress, before she let it fall from her statuesque, iron-skinned, muscular frame. Her ample breasts, held firmly in place by the copious amounts of altered and hardened musculature supporting them, were swaying ever-so-gently, as she paced towards him, nipples hard as a rock. As she walked, she shucked out of her silken, lace panties, the delicate fabric getting stuck on the folds of her muscular thighs that could crush boulders, as it slid slowly down to the floor, and threw off her sandals. Standing stark-naked in front of him, just with her headdress, a gray-skinned, decaying goddess, holding the bowl in one hand. The blackened veins and pustules somehow only made her look more... darkly, almost deathly exotic. Involuntarily, his gaze fixed on her clean-shaven, intricately tattooed and pierced womanhood, glistening with moisture in the dancing candlelight.

He swallowed hard.

"In the name of the... n-not even a-a... a pretense?! Mistress-- p...please--" - he stuttered in some alarm, pressing slightly into the chair, but his pants were now literally bursting, as his penis begged for release. That look in her eyes... she was beyond hungry.

Mind-fucking him already. A large part of him felt... empowered, given how long it was since any woman looked at him that way, given his self-inflicted magical deformations.

"Silence..." - was her one word, whispered like a thunder, as she straddled him, still standing over him, then leaned down to kiss him. Then, gently, she squatted on his lap, her moisture leaving a stain on his pants. At the sensation of his girth, prodding at it, she let out a slight, wanting hiss, as she effortlessly ripped-open his robe with one hand, literally at the seams, at the chest.

Ellis gritted his teeth, buckling slightly under her. A drop of sweat sliding down his brow. She was heavy, as the plush chair's hardwood frame creaked in protest under them. But with that weight, he could feel the tip trying to bore through the fabric of his pants, and reach the wet, tight prize... just above. His member was throbbing.

The hand with the bowl, emptied it's medicinal content onto his chest, as she began slowly, meticulously, rubbing him up with it. The chest... the stomach... up the neck... both arms, shoulders-to-fingertips, paying special attention to deformed regions. She kept up a steady pace, continually muttering incantations under her breath, as he felt... pressure... in affected regions. Her fingers reached his face, rubbing in the substance gently around his drooping, deformed eyesocket. Then she kissed it, still murmuring litanies of incantations, as he could feel her clammy fingers at the back of his neck. He could feel dull pressure in that eye as well, as the malformed bones began... incrementally... shifting.

He felt divine, the pain and tension ebbing away, replaced by bliss, as her other hand reached down, ripping open his pants, her vise-like fist closing itself around his girth. Gently, she guided it... inside. A deep, low growl could be heard, emanating from the pit of her throat, as her incantations briefly stopped. Then she continued, rocking back-and-forth, as the chair continued to creak, and her other hand continued applying the substance. He buckled again under her, harder, as he snuggled-in, suckling on her nipples.

Another growl left her, as she now had both hands free, to continue applying the substance, feeling him so delectably deep inside her.

"Thank the Continuum for small mercies... he is still as... mmm... large... as I remember! If that were not the case... I would be angry." - she thought, biting her lower lip harder at the... fullness... within her, her eyes half-closing, as she established a rhythm, feeling his tip reach her cervix, relishing his teeth on her nipples.

Then she continued her incantations, her hands now hard at work at his back and sides, her tone growing more... airy... by the moment.
 
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