Witchy: Mavis (3/3), a Quickie (early release)

Mavis’s emotions ripped through her:

The startled freeze of finding a person when she didn’t expect to; the hooked barb of recognition digging in as her brain reminded her of her nakedness; obvious outrage—because what the hell is someone doing in Sienna’s apartment?

The woman softened briefly. Mavis felt Sienna’s eyes dancing over the ginger woman’s body like she was comfortable with doing so.

That’s when more emotions entered the blend:

Confusion. Was the woman supposed to be here? Had Sienna been so flighty that she’d forgotten to tell her?

Inadequacy. Fuck, the woman was hot.

More inadequacy—because she only seemed to get hotter the longer the two stood in silence.

Fear? Was this one of Sienna’s many bed mates? Or a legitimate stranger?

How on earth could a frump like Mavis contend for Sienna’s heart when red-heads with tits like basketballs were also vying for her attention?

Fucking, basketball.

More inadequacy—about her chest of all things.

But then Mavis realized that she was naked in a room with a person she didn’t recognize and social conditioning won out. She went to cover herself, realizing far too late that it was Sienna’s body she was covering, forgetting that if this woman was a lover that Sienna’s nakedness was likely celebrated instead of shamed.

“Whoa, there. I’m not here to hurt you,” said the woman, though her voice was anything but calming. She didn’t even look up from the phone as she talked. “But I do have some demands for you if you don’t mind hearing them.”

“I don’t—. . . Ngh! Ngh-ahhn!” Mavis tried to say before a moan stifled her.

That bulging bloat that was released earlier was now having its way with Sienna’s body. With her arms crossed to cover her chest, Mavis could feel the press of Sienna’s breasts as they marched forward. The growth shoved arms and hands out of the way, forcing them to fight to keep a shred of modesty in place. Even so, there was little modest about a girl’s bare tits ballooning in front of a complete stranger.

Not to mention moaning in front of one.

“What potent magic,” said the woman. She tossed the phone on the bed, finished with it. “I originally came for you, but whoever it is that’s casting those spells has quite the talent. I might be able to fit you both.”

“Fit us—. . . f-fuck. . .” Mavis whimpered.

Another rush. Another hiss. Another wash of warmth. Mavis had succeeded thus far with keeping Sienna’s boobs covered, but the conflict for available area at Sienna’s front was intensifying. Flesh bubbled and oozed over and between her arms. She leaned her body forward and trapped her flattened palms underneath her armpits. Even so, the breast continued to grow, rapidly changing shape and size.

“You really don’t have to hide it. I’m quite familiar with this sort of glamour. And it would be a shame not to witness such a beautifully performed spell,” croaked the ginger.

If she planned to offend Mavis, she’d accomplished that much.

But the mention of spells. . .

Mavis couldn’t stop herself from asking—not after months of practicing magic alone.

Through a clenched jaw, she asked, “Do you also practice magic?”

Suddenly, the red-headed woman’s features brightened. She began her approach, and when Mavis sought a retreat she found the bedroom door being closed by some invisible force. Mavis was accusatory when she looked the woman over again, this time catching the finger that had waggled toward the exit and shut the door.

Again, she was reminded of the odd witch’s beauty, her evident youth—somewhere in her mid-twenties, close to Mavis’s own age.

That said, she had expressions that Mavis had never seen in a twenty-year-old.

That matronly sweetness.

The contempt of a crotchety, old bat.

Confidence that came from decades—no, centuries—of honing one’s craft.

A hand slammed against the door over Mavis’s shoulder. She shrank, a whimper turning into an unwanted groan of sexual frustration as a dominating presence cast a shadow over her.

“I’m a witch, yes. I run a coven in the next town over. I’m Agatha. And you. . .” Agatha paused to pull at Sienna’s arms, attempting to ease them down to unleash the tremendous breasts on the other side.

But Mavis fought back. She snatched Sienna’s melons into a tighter hug, breasts oozing up and over her forearms.

Agatha rolled her eyes. “You should relax. I would have offed you already if you hadn’t been of interest to me.”

“Interest?”

“You’re a novice, so you should study this spell being cast on you. If you’d stop acting like a bich in heat for five seconds, you might learn a thing or two.”

“A bitch in—. . . Mmmh!” Mavis barked before another bolt of pleasure pinned her to the door. She was so weak to the effects of this magic. It took everything she had just to stay upright.

Agatha scoffed. “Don’t be a wimp. It’s just a glamour.”

“Ngh!” Mavis winced. She bit at her lip until pain helped to sober her. She didn’t know why she was going to listen to the stranger that had called her a “bitch” but she didn’t have much choice, what with Sienna’s body being so impeded.

She breathed in a staggered breath and exhaled before glancing down at Sienna’s body with slitted eyes. With Agatha overhead, she unfurled her arms and beheld the pouring of Sienna’s feminine flesh down and out over the petiteness of her torso. Her breathing wouldn’t stay steady, but she caught the new outline of Sienna’s fantastic body.

Sienna’s curves were not merely average anymore. They were exceptional. Her boobs had acquired several inches of free space in the circumference around Sienna’s torso. Anybody that knew Sienna before would have suspected that she’d finally gotten that boob job. They might have also scolded her for overdoing it a little.

They definitely would have looked impossible under clothing, deserving of the jealousy and spite they would receive. But then, once unguarded by clothing—be it underwear, a bikini, or newdness. . .

They were perfect.

Absolutely flawless in a physical sense.

Then, in a magical sense as well.

She shouldn’t have been able to, but Mavis could see the complex threads of reality glittering between each shiver of growth. Like a matrix of numbers or lines between stars that formed constellations, a meticulous spell was being weaved to make Sienna grow bigger and bigger without changing her original size. It was like adjusting a wire mesh around her without changing who she actually was.

It really was beautiful to look at. Mavis had never seen magic quite like—

“Mmmh! Mmmmmmh-ah!”

A moan stole the sight from her and Mavis was left with Sienna’s new physical form again.

Her titties were the size and plumpness of medium-sized melons. How a woman could double her cup size and still have no need for a bra was beyond imagining, but Sienna’s body pulled it off. Huge, pale globes were a roaring testament to perfect womanhood. Arousal pulsed through them, the throb of blood in her sensitive nipples was so distinct that her boobs almost felt like they belonged to someone else.

Technically, they did.

They belonged to. . .

“Mavis,” Agatha whispered. “The first spell is beginning to fade. We need to talk.”

“Mavis”? No, that wasn’t right.

“I-I’m Sienna,” Mavis said, blinking as she looked up.

Agatha groaned. “How stupid can you. . . Wait, no. I get it. So the two of you swapped bodies and the person you swapped with doesn’t have any magic sense. That would explain it. I guess you aren’t as stupid as I thought. . .”

Mavis snarled. She looked for a good place to shove Agatha away and settled on her shoulders. “Who the hell are you and what the hell are you doing in my friend’s bedroom?!” she barked. It would have sounded commanding had her voice not trembled at the sudden jostle of her new boobs.

Agatha’s eyebrows rose, an amused smile playing at her lips. “You look fun to play with, but it’ll have to wait.”

“Talk.”

“I certainly wanted to until you got physical. Now, I think I’ll wait—leave you in the dark to consider how screwed you are after making an enemy out of a teleporting witch.”

“. . .”

“There, now. Obedience fits you well.”

A quip was on Mavis’s lips, but she felt a sudden listlessness taking over. The change. . . it’s been an hour. “O-Okay, sorry. Say what you need to say.”

“Nah. I’ve got no patience for unteachable little girls.”

“You had patience, like, four seconds ago.”

“That makes me fickle. And it makes you. . .” Agatha rolled her wrist in the air, thinking of a word. “Ah, yes. Lost!”

“Gah! What is wrong with you?”

“You don’t exactly have the luxury of time to figure that out now, do you?”

Sienna’s heart gave two low, slow thumps, intentionally slowing itself. Her body collapsed to the ground, blinking in and out of consciousness. Sleep was arresting her.

Only seconds left.

“Don’t hurt. . . D-Don’t hurt Sienna,” Mavis said, fighting the pull of sleep and the transfer of minds that would happen as a result.

Agatha kneeled down beside Mavis. “Or what, Mavis? What will you do?”

“. . . get you.”

“Feisty.”

“. . . Stop. . .”

There was a full threat behind her words, but Mavis didn’t feel her lips take shape around them. She could no longer feel the floor beneath her or the room above her. Even the weight of Sienna’s new breasts, which had stacked atop one another as she slumped sideways onto the ground, had vanished.

Mavis drifted to sleep.

Quiet.

Dark.

Sleep.

Until Agatha interrupted.

“Whether or not I hurt anyone is your choice. I really don’t want to, but you’ll be the final say on that, Mavis. Here’s what you need to decide: join my coven, or don’t. Simple. If you agree, then you’ll be my apprentice—you’ll learn real magic. And if you don’t. . . I suppose I can take Sienna. She was the person who created that beautiful glamour before. The choice is yours, little witch.”

Then, Mavis woke up, swaddled under a weighted blanket on her couch. She was groggy, but she could hear her phone going off on the coffee table, tap dancing on the wooden surface.

She snatched it up. “Sienna. Sienna! Are you there? Are you okay?!” She stared at her screen and realized she’d missed the “answer” button in her confusion and anxiety. She tried again, forcing her eyes to uncross.

“Sienna!”

“Mavis!”

“Are you okay—. . .”

“Titties!”

“What?”

“Fat mommy milkies! Mega badonkers! Humongous hooters! I’ve got ‘em! Finally!”

Mavis blinked, her phone drooping away from her ear. She fully took in her living room area and saw her cards laid out in a fascinating pattern. She hadn’t left them there. The previous night, she’d put them in their case and went to bed.

Which meant Sienna had pulled them out.

And used Mavis’s body to do magic.

Very potent magic.

“But are you okay?” Mavis blurted, not wincing when the echo of her voice filled the room and came back to her. “Are you alone?”

“Just me and these titties of mine. I’m gonna spend all day squeezing them and—. . .” there was a gasp on the line before Sienna continued, voice muffled by something. “They’re so big I can suck them! Mavis! I’m sucking my titty!”

Mavis’s grip on her phone loosened, but only after she’d almost crushed it. A weary smile followed a slow exhale at the mental image of Sienna sucking her own breast.

“How do you like it?” Mavis asked.

“It’s the best.”

“Tasty?”

“So tasty. Wanna try it?”

Mavis’s cheeks heated up. “No, but I’m coming over.”

“Good. I’m not having any luck fitting both my nipples into my mouth. They’re both so thick and round.”

Mavis threw the weighted blanket to the side and stood on her rug. On the glass table before her were the arranged cards, aligned in a majestic, flowing structure she couldn’t have thought to implement. Back in her body, she could feel the residual magic on them in the same way she might still smell fresh bread hours after it had been baked.

“I’m coming over so you can show me how you managed this glamour,” Mavis clarified.

“As long as you ‘come’ for me, baby.”

“You figured this out in just an hour. . .”

“Ignoring my jokes again?”

She was indeed ignoring Sienna’s horny humor, though this time it wasn’t merely to avoid the touchiness of open sexuality with her crush.

Mavis touched a corner card. Power flowed into her and she felt the swirling pressure against her own chest. The flowy night shirt she’d worn to bed suddenly began to billow, her nipple grazing the inside of soft cotton as her braless breasts adjusted. Did they just grow? Just a little, yes. Or maybe they were just fuller now, resisting the natural sag that came with larger chests.

To think that merely grazing this card structure could resonate so deeply. . .

Her cards were just like Agatha: the more Mavis looked, the more their beauty became known to her. She never would have thought to arrange them in such a way, making weaker cards central to the arrangement while larger ones walled off the outside. The web of magic was so well-organized that Mavis didn’t even feel herself lacking in magical power. The cards had done the work.

So much power. So effortless.

“Serious for a second, Sienna.” Mavis furrowed her brow. “Who taught you to use magic like this? I hadn’t studied glamours this advanced, so the only way you’d know how to use them. . .”

“I just did what came natural.”

“Oh.”

“It’s hard to explain. I just sort of heard the cards and they started telling me where to put them. It was scary at first, but I sorta always wanted to use magic like you, Mavis. . . Mavis?”

“Hmm?”

“Still there?”

Mavis kept watching her cards, waiting for them to tell her what they’d told Sienna—how to rearrange them into gorgeous arrays and patterns, evoking powerful magics in the process.

They were silent for her.

They’d seen through the glamour and spoken to Sienna, but now that Mavis was back they didn’t care to offer her anything.

Did the spirits guess that Sienna needed extra guidance? Or did they assume that Mavis’s natural magical affinity didn’t need any help?

Was the fact that she had a little head start mean she no longer needed outside support?

So magic was like genetics, then. Large breasts made everything better, so Mavis didn’t need help making friends or finding jobs or fitting, right?

Wrong.

Why did everyone assume that Mavis had it so great?

Nobody could see how hard she had to work, how many hours she spent alone, how love sick she was over Sienna, and how lonely a path she’d been on for so many months. Nobody would have guessed that the last two days had been the most interpersonal contact she’d had in months.

Nobody seemed to care.

Except.

Mavis felt a hand on her shoulder, but she didn’t jump. Now that she was in her own body, she couldn’t be surprised by waves of magic appearing in her home.

Plus, Agatha hadn’t exactly been stealthy as she padded up to the back of Mavis’s loveseat.

“Would you like to be taught to become a witch?” Agatha asked.

Sienna’s boob sucking muffled her words. The tinny phone speaker made her sound distant. “Mavis? Mavis, are you still coming over?! Mavis!”

Mavis cleared her throat. “I’ve got plans, Sienna. I’ll be there after, though, okay?”

The stretch of time between Mavis’s question and Sienna’s reply stretched. Something important was hanging on what her best friend would say next—whether or not Sienna would catch the tone in Mavis’s voice, the shift from before.

Sienna’s reply was too quick and too chipper. “Your loss! See you later, then. I’ve got some sexy selfies to take. Thank you so much for this body swapping spell. We’ve only switched twice and I feel great! Bye!”

The phone clicked off.

Silence.

“Yes,” Mavis answered. “I’d love to learn from you, Agatha.”

The young witch turned and faced the ginger she knew would be there. Agatha eyed her like a product she was considering on a shelf, a commodity.

And something about the honesty of it made Mavis feel a little better.

“Grab your cards. Let’s go,” Agatha demanded.

“But. . .”

“But?”

Mavis stood, clenching her fist. When the phone went dead, she had the resolve to cut Sienna out of her life—for a little while, at least. But now, standing at the door to the help she craved, she couldn’t hold fast to her darker inclinations.

Agatha seemed to have detected this shift and frowned. “You’re still worried about the girl.”

“Will you take us both as your apprentices?” Mavis said.

“What is it? Do you envy her? Hate her? Lust for her? What’s got you pushing your luck like this?”

Probably all three, if Mavis was honest. She stood quietly, though, humble before the master witch before her—if witches were even called “masters”. She did everything she could to make herself tiny, hunching her shoulders, hoping that Agatha’s pridefulness would respond positively to such a display.

Agatha turned on a heel and paced back to Mavis. When she was close enough, she cupped Mavis behind the neck and scooped her up as if to kiss her.

“If Sienna is a better witch than you,” Agatha said, saccharine sweet. “I won’t hesitate to drop you for her. Understand? She might not have been born a witch, but the spirits seem to favor her. She can go much, much further than you could ever dream, and I won’t waste my time on pathetic palm readers that won’t learn.”

Hearing what she’d expected to be true was one thing, but having it voiced by a witch like Agatha. . .

Mavis’s vision became misty. Somehow, this close to Agatha, gazing into her eyes, Mavis felt that a single tear would betray everything she’d ever wanted. So, she swallowed hard against it, feeling the sting in her throat. It took everything in her to keep the feeling of unworthiness off her face.

But this was her chance for help—to prove that, with a little outside help, that a helpless palm reader like her could become a powerful mage, too.

So she did more than keep unworthiness down. She squeezed its neck in her clawed fingers and drowned it in a sea of her dearest, darkest wants:

Respect.

Love.

Power.

Connection.

Sex.

And then, Mavis spoke, unbroken, sharp, and meaningful.

A Queen of Swords.

“I won’t fail,” Mavis replied.

Agatha, who had acted as if she saw the whole of Mavis from the start, answered by dismissing the pesky few inches that separated them. The two kissed, sealing a dark pact, confirming an electric chemistry, working out a swollen knot of desire.

Agatha broke the kiss after a steamy, meaningful stretch. She continued to hold Mavis, affectionate as she pushed fallen hair away to behold a face as alert and dark as espresso.

“That hunger. That desire. You’ll need every drop of it to prove yourself,” Agatha stated. “I’ll help you. But know that if you lose touch with it for a single second—out of laziness or depression or jealousy of Sienna—I’ll cut you down myself.”

“I understand. It won’t happen.”

“Of course it won’t,” Agatha grinned. “I don’t take on any weak witches. Now, fetch your cards and follow me. You’re going to meet your Coven Sisters.”

With a final peck on the forehead, Mavis retrieved her cards and returned to Agatha’s side, not sparing a moment to change clothes or apply make-up or even put on a bra.

She hadn’t been able to hide from Agatha since the beginning, after all. It seemed silly to start now.

She wanted as little between herself and her new master as possible, after all.

The two went to the front door of Mavis’s home, and Mavis watched with due admiration as the ginger witch hexed the common door, lacing it with her powers. When she opened it, the two stood at the threshold of a swirling, purple abyss.

This was how Agatha got around, this space-bending magic—another branch that Mavis could say she hadn’t known the complexity of.

It went on her mental list of things to learn, just under. . .

“If you had a choice, would you prefer the ability to step through pocket dimensions,” Agatha asked. “Or the ability to make your breasts even bigger?”

Mavis blinked, jaw slack. “Was that mind reading magic?”

“It doesn’t take magic to tell when you’re jealous,” Agatha said, hooking her neck toward Mavis. She made a show of pressing her palm into the shelf of her own tits, which were of a size as to be proper peers to Mavis.

“Why would I be jealous?” Mavis pouted. “I’m plenty large enough already. Like, they constantly get in the way, and. . .”

Agatha levelled her with a look.

Mavis flipped her switch, testing Agatha’s understanding.

Her lip tingled from their kiss and she spoke.

“It annoys me how easily Sienna got bigger breasts. She wouldn’t acknowledge how much of a pain they were for me before and now that she’s my size and obsessed with them. . .”

“She never will.”

Mavis chortled. “The first thing she’s going to do is ask me to acknowledge how beautiful and amazing they are—and they will, be and I’ll fawn over them with her.”

“. . .”

“But I’m frustrated that after all of this she still won’t see my side; she won’t see me. I’d rather her see how much I go through.”

“Earn her recognition?”

“Yes.”

“I’m. . . interested,” Agatha spun, the swirling gateway at her back. “Just how far will you go for that girl’s recognition.”

It wasn’t a question so Mavis didn’t answer. She let Agatha approach her, crossed yet again with the addicting tingle of fear and excitement, the crackle of power.

“Watch. Study. If you want Sienna to see you, this is how you’ll do it.”

Mavis felt a sweet, smooth release as Agatha’s slender fingers rose and wrapped around the swell of her breasts. Every inch of her chocolate skin came alive at the touch of the ginger witch. In a slow, gentle flourish, Mavis succumbed. Even their kiss hadn’t felt as good as having a breast massage from Agatha. Something about having her massive, sensitive titties played with a woman so domineeringly distant scratched an itch that Mavis was ashamed of.

A whistle of a whimper escaped as her K cups were fondled. She wasn’t scolded immediately, but she wasn’t surprised, either.

If their kiss had been anything to go by, Agatha wasn’t beyond indulging a beat or two longer than she probably should have, entertaining both of their lusts.

“Watch,” Agatha whispered, her fanned fingers passing over the rise of Mavis’s areola slowly.

And Mavis obeyed.

She watched as a glamour was cast on her body, weaved like a mesh over her fat, sensitive knockers the same way they had over Sienna’s. The same pulses that had levelled Sienna’s body as she grew battered against Mavis, though she remained upright, bolstered by her innate abilities with magic.

Sienna’s spell had been way more complex, and Agatha’s fingers drew lines that were much easier to follow. Mavis hated that her lesson was being dumbed down, but she used her offended pride to memorize and learn.

Without cards, Agatha used magic to coax Mavis’s breasts further forward. They gained in weight, turning into anchors. They spilled forward, stretching the flowy night dress, revealing more and more of Mavis’s thighs as the little gown was further filled out at the top. It was as if liquid beauty was being poured into her, her body filling the broader cast that Agatha was creating.

She was filling out quite a bit, though. . .

“H-Huge. . .” Mavis wheezed.

“Would you like them smaller?”

Mavis considered how her size would affect Sienna. “N-No. Bigger. . .”

Agatha smirked. “Learn well.”

She continued to grow and never once complained about the weight or size again. Better yet, she appreciated seeing magic being worked on her own body before her eyes. It supported what she’d always believed: that she was a hands-on learner, who could only get so far with books. By the end of Agatha’s glamour weaving, she was sure she could reproduce the spell on other parts of her body.

Arms or legs, for sure. Maybe not a face yet, as that seemed far trickier. But anything large or broad. An ass perhaps.

What if I showed up at Sienna’s with an even bigger butt?

Or maybe she could sink all her energy and efforts further into her bust. . .

“Oof!” Mavis huffed. When Agatha’s influence left, the full size of her titties dropped into open air. She was only able to keep upright by kicking out a foot to catch her before she stumbled forward.

She held them in her arms, the swinging boulderst that her boobs had become. How silly she was to think that K cups were “large”. At her new size, she dwarfed her old gozongas. Her jugs were so full and supple while also managing a trampoline-like bounciness. If not for her night gown, she imagined they would have stood up and out with near-perfect pertness. However, since they were indeed impaired by clothing, Mavis’s mammaries angled downward slightly, the bulge of her dinner plate areola almost as impressive as her five-inch nipples.

There was nearly as much breast as there was woman. Mavis might’ve shrieked in any other situation.

Except, at this moment, titties of this size were exactly what she wanted.

“With such a simple glamour, you can’t adjust the sense of size that much.”

Mavis nodded. “I can tell. They’re not as heavy as they should be, but still feel substantial. Incredible.” She bounced them for emphasis, a few testing dribbles before she threw her whole body into it. They were almost cartoonish in buoyancy, jiggles rippling through like seismic tremors. When they came to rest, several seconds later, the undersides of her knockers swung at her hips.

There was over two feet of distance from root to tip. All hopes of seeing the floor had dwindled.

“Adorable,” Agatha said. “Ready to go, now?”

She was still able to blend her condescension and lust in a way that made Mavis want her. Still, the young witch nodded, forcing the new rush of horniness to be submissive to her deeper desires. She wanted to impress Agatha more than she wanted to smother her with her new melons—which said a lot about how much she wanted Agatha’s approval.

She shuffled toward the swirling dark, eager to do whatever Agatha demanded.

“You must master the use of that glamour by the end of the day. If you don’t I’m kicking you out of the Coven,” Agatha said, as if it were a second thought.

“I’ll have it mastered by lunch,” Mavis replied, unshakable in her new confidence, already visualizing new uses for glamour magic.

Agatha said nothing, simply planting another kiss on Mavis’s forehead before ushering them into the pocket dimension.

**

The conclusion (?) of the Witchy trio. I'll admit, it's not much for an ending, mostly because it's meant to lead into another series that I'll work on resuscitating in the coming months. Still, it was fun to work with glamours and witches again. 

Agatha makes another appearance, as she's a central character to this whole "Witchy" thing. Bonus points for those who remember the other witch with a Coven. . . because even I have trouble remembering. 

Anyway, lore aside, I hope I gave Mavis some complexity. I usually try to keep these chapters standalone-y but this one required the reading of the previous two to really get a feel of what was motivating Mavis the whole time: that sense of being ignored because she's so "well-off". 

And, of course, there's always the titties :D Managed to work those in there. Hope it was still convincing and, of course, sexy. 

Will be throwing myself at other projects in the near future. A poll might come up concerning them. Stay tuned. 

Enjoy