Morning Rituals (Speedwrite)

 I woke up today feeling slightly more feminine, and wanted to pop a guy by filling him with steam. So I ended up writing this. Hopefully those of you who are subscribed solely for male content won't be too put off by this!

Sephis woke up and felt compelled to call herself Sephira, her feminine energy felt more dominant today. She whisked the covers away and folded them in the air with a flick of the wrist, dropping them neatly into the wash basket at the far end of the room. She felt her hair grow longer until it draped past her breasts, which were filled out and sat higher than they had yesterday. She took a moment to run a hand through the soft brown strands, smiling at how luxurious it felt to touch. Magic had its benefits. Sometimes the chaos and confusion it brought to the wielder was worth enduring.

“Mistress, someone has crossed the threshold of your domain,” a small voice called out from the windowsill. Perched on top was a fox with one eye, and a thin strand of purple silk tied around its neck. This was Wit, one of Sephira’s familiars. She found him in the forest half-dead two years ago and took pity on him. She imbued him with the deep magic of her ancestry, and granted him a greater lifespan, and the ability to speak. Though he was free to go and do as he pleased, he remained near the house most days, reminding Sephira of a pet cat. Not wanting him to be bored, however, she did give him one task and that was to monitor the border of her forest domain.

“Where did they enter from?”

Wit tilted his head. “Somewhere in the Americas, mistress.”

Sephira groaned. “You can just say America, Wit. I only have one entrance in North America anyway.” She commanded her wardrobe to dispense her clothing. A low-cut lilac blouse with short, ruched sleeves; a pair of stretch leggings made from silvery, reflective fabric; her underwear and a bra; and a pair of purple ankle length heeled boots, with the stiletto heels themselves reinforced by her magic. She floated the clothes over her body and brushed her hair by hand. Her overall appearance didn’t fit the mood of a sorceress, but she didn’t feel like putting on the robes and the finery today. She looked at herself in the mirror, and how each article of clothing adhered to her ballooning curves. Everything seemed painted on, tight but well fitted. Just how she liked it.

“Let’s greet our guest, shall we?”

It would be too bothersome to leave her room and use the front door, so she turned herself into a fine mist and drifted through the open window. Wit jumped on to her right shoulder when she solidified, resting comfortably with enough room to curl up. Sephira was almost nine feet tall on a good day. Her giant ancestry was the root of her magic, and the source of her enormity. She added to her girth here and there, through indulging in good food and consuming more magic than she really needed, but she didn’t mind the added size. There was beauty in the enormous, and she considered herself quite beautiful.

“Just a little further, mistress,” Wit said.

Sephira took short, unhurried steps through her forest. She wondered if the hapless wanderer who entered her domain knew where they were. If they had noticed how the trees steadily grew taller the closer they got to her home in the clearing, or if he had noticed how the leaves became blue and rich from the magic-rich soil their trees drew their nourishment from. Sephira’s forest was a world between worlds, cultivated by her predecessor and shaped by her efforts. She kept a few entrances open across the planet, three in the United Kingdom, one in North America, and another she had yet to formally open in Canada. They were meant for her ‘invited’ guests, but magic was an imprecise thing at times. Occasionally a stranger got through.

“Wait,” Wit uncurled and leapt to the forest floor. His sole eye brightened, seeing through the dense trees and catching sight of something which made his fur bristle. “Mistress. The guest has a weapon, I believe they may be a hunter. They smell of gunpowder and...” Wit sniffed the air. “Deer blood.”

Sephira sighed. She hoped the guest was like the last one. A hapless, but otherwise innocent and well-meaning man. She had taken a liking to the last unwilling intruder; she had even invited them for tea. She didn’t feel the same inclination towards this one. With a whispering of words of power, she brought a hand to her face and imbued her eyes with the power to see through solid objects. Like a bird of prey, her vision narrowed in on the intruder.

“I can see him Wit,” she said, flatly, and turned into a fast-moving mist.

The hunter was a fat man in his twenties. His face was messy with unkempt brown hair and a beard that had grown thick and wild. His expression was difficult to read behind so much hair, but it showed surprise when it opened its mouth to gasp when Sephira manifested on a boulder in the man’s path.

“The fuck are you supposed to be, a witch?”

He had youthful featured beneath his bovine mop of hair. Sephira could see through it with the vision spell pulsating its blue light in her eyes. “A sorceress,” she corrected. “And you’re trespassing in ‘my’ home.”

“Your home?” The man made a move for his rifle. It was slung over one shoulder by a heavy strap, but it came apart like paper when Wit lunged from a bush to steal the weapon from him. “This is America, lady! I can do what I want!” He scowled. He was inexperienced, and his anger was a front, but that wasn’t a problem for Sephira to correct. She wanted him out of her forest.

“This is my home, you’re not even on Earth right now. I was going to simply have you spirited back to the threshold and have you turn around, but I think I’ll give you a parting gift.”

She pointed at him. Her forearm crackled with arcs of magic like lightning. “Let the anger within you come loose, unattached, and grant you clarity,” she struck him with a spell, changing her mind on ‘helping’ the man. She altered the spell, adding another incantation, “but before it departs from your corpulent frame, let it boil, and let its steam fill you to the brink.”

The man hiccupped. “What did you do to me?”

Sephira sat on the boulder, anticipating.

The man hiccupped again, and a trail of thick steam drifted out of his mouth. The hiccupping became rapid and his fat body swelled with boiling vapour, sweat breaking out across his pale skin which was becoming rapidly exposed from the way he grew too rounded and massive for his clothes. The camouflage pants and hunting vest exploded within seconds, allowing him to take on spherical shape. His cheeks filled up, becoming a pair of shiny pink basketballs filled with superheated steam on either side of his confused face.

“Please, there’s no need to worry.” Sephira hummed, checking her nails. She liked to make a show of being disinterested when she inflated someone as a punishment, it was catty, but it amused her.

The man tried to walk away but his puffy feet had blown away the tough leather of his hunting boots, and the soles were now too curved to balance him. He had grown to the size of a weather balloon in seconds, and was fast approaching a dangerously taut hot air balloon as his sensitive, sweaty, heat-flushed skin pressed into the trees around him.

Sephira plugged her ears. She could hear him shouting apologies shortly before hot steam whistled out of every orifice like a kettle, and a branch dug too deep into his reddening flank. He exploded in a rush of humid warmth, which Sephira mused was a good start to her skincare ritual for the day. She got up and walked back to her home, Wit in tow.

“That should teach him a spot of humility I think, or give him a sexual fixation for blowing up like a balloon. Either way, I don’t think he’s going to be so cheeky if we meet again.”

“Did you remember to send him off with a set of replacement clothes, mistress?” Wit asked.

Sephira shrugged. “He can use the leaves, it’s not ‘my’ fault he didn’t come prepared. Now. What shall we have for lunch?”