An Evening with Witches

As you and the witches enjoy a delicious dinner of homegrown vegetables and wild game meat, you once again wonder about how easily the witches have accepted you into their home. Not once have they tried to make you smell their stench, except the aroma they give off naturally, but they have not **** you to smell their body odor, gas or foot stench even once. Not that you complain about it, but still, this is very different from the image of vicious and cunning beasts you have always seen them as.

Edmortia the coven mother seems to notice your troubled thoughts. “What are you so taciturn for, dear?”, the elder witch asks. You jump slightly, then shake your head and look at her. The witch looks like an attractive woman in her early forties, a mature beauty with slight wrinkles around her eyes and lips, in fact, she could be a stunning beauty, but the sickly green skin, crooked nose and intelligent, cunning eyes make it clear she is no human, but a witch, possibly several hundred years old and capable of witchcraft.

To cover up your uncertainty, you ask her: “I was wondering for a while now, this whole futa thing… is it common? Do you do this often? I mean for other monster girls, do they, I mean… ask for male parts often?” The witch chuckles and takes a sip of her wine, then answers: “A couple times. Lots of monster girls want to have cocks as we are naturally horny and love to fuck. Strong smells make us horny, so dirty and smelly cocks are a sure way to impress other monster girls. Also, futa girls tend to be stronger and more dominant while some can even make up for a weaker smell with potent cum or dickcheese. Not to mention futa cum and dickcheese are delicacies for all monster girls because of their smell and taste, but also because they are rare and very sought after. So many monster girls are aspiring to get one of these for themselves. Consider yourself lucky you get one for free.”

The witch pauses and continues eating while Tamaria continues. “In general, almost every monster girl wants to be a futa. However, very few get to become one if you are not lucky enough to be born one, which is not that unlikely for us. The best and most reliable way is witchcraft, potions or rituals performed by witches or shamans, and we keep our secrets well hidden. A futa cock is a privilege that needs to be earned, either by impressing us or doing us a significant favor. Other methods can be very unpredictable and can yield some quite… unpleasant results.”

“So, if it is so difficult for others to convince you to give them a futa- organ, why me? Why were you so easily convinced to make me one?” It might not be wise to ask so directly, but the question is bothering you for the entire day already. Edmortia stares into the room for a while, then answers: “Curiosity. We have never heard of a human impressing monster girls with their foot smell before, so we are curious what might happen to you. Seeing you drink one of our potions will make for an interesting experiment.” That sounds not very assuring, but Tamaria replies to the other witch: “Our potion is still one of the best and safest ways of growing a cock. Not only were you able to specify exactly what kind of shaft and balls you want to have, but we will also observe your transformation carefully and in the very unlikely case that some mishap does occur, we can easily determine the cause and correct any abnormal reactions.”

After the dinner has finished, everyone moves from the table to the armchairs to watch the presentation. Nervous and with a bad feeling, you take a seat right next to the window and look outside into the garden that is lit by a beautiful moon. The witches all take place in their armchairs, except for Tamaria, who is pushing the mirror to the middle of the room, while Vemaho takes a seat on the ground next to you. The witch next to you, the mysterious Caillinn who made you pass out with her foot licking, offers you a glass of wine. You accept the crystal glass filled with a dark red liquid and take a sip of the heavy tasting wine, then look over the row of monster witches.

Caillinn the witch wears an amused and secretive smile on her green face as she looks back at you, then turns towards her other side and pushes her nose into the sweaty armpit of Zaimela. The horny witch hybrid giggles and moans, then pulls her partner up towards her face and mashes their lips together. Both witches look a lot younger than the others, like women in her late twenties, and not very monstrous aside from their ugly green skin and larger noses. Aside from their smell, of course, a heavy stench that fills the room even despite them all still wearing their heavy leather boots, but those give off their own kind of leathery stench that you can identify by now. Caillinn’s smell is more leathery and bitter, whereas Zaimela’s is dominated by the smell of sex, of wet and slimy pussy and sticky, sweaty skin. On the other side, the ghostly Orellanna seems entirely unconcerned by the other witches’ display of blatant lust, instead staring into the room as if she was looking at something only she can spot. You can only smell some traces of her, but they are not pleasant either, reminding you of fermented leaves and the sickly smell of old, rotten corpses, but changed by something else, smelling somehow fresher. Her white hairs move around her ethereal face and the longer you look at her, the harder you find it to make out details, but you believe she is quite cute.

The coven mother, Edmortia, looks the most witchy of all the five women with her larger body and bust, her crooked nose and her thin, gnarled fingers, but even the oldest and most powerful witch reminds you more of a matron than a cunning and dangerous monster girl. That is, if it were not for her stench, fitting of her name ‘Edmortia the Putrid’, as the sour stench of hot vinegar and rotten milk stings in your nostrils. That combined with her obnoxious pipe smoke makes you gag, so you are glad you took the seat right next to the window and have Vemaho sitting next to you so her cheesy musk can distract you. You would never admit it, but you greatly prefer her cheesy feet over the putrid stench the coven mother emits. The coven mother takes a deep breath of her pipe and fills the room with her disgusting smoke, then coughs dryly and waves for Tamaria to start.

Start she does, and as the two mirror images present the creations one after another, showing off all the specifics and what makes them curious, terrifying or pleasant, you try to watch the other witches to see how they react, especially Edmortia the coven mother. To your surprise, they seem quite impressed by your imagination. You hear more compliments than critique for your bouquet of flowers. Especially Zaimela expresses great interest in the creation, vocally praising it over Tamarias head despite it smelling nice and flowery and speculates over what it might feel like to get fucked by such a dick. Edmortia tells her off by mentioning how delicate the leaves seem and how painful it would be if they were ripped off during sex. Yet she does look pleased by your creative smut, although you think she is not yet fully convinced.

Tamarias alien ovipositor dominantly beats your hell hound as expected as the whole thing is just much more terrifying, not just for potential sex partners, but also for yourself, at least going from Tamarias explanations. Mirror images obviously cannot show such effects, but your hell hound is clearly not as scary. Still, the witches look impressed and pleased by your courage, especially by the fact you gave the hound a strong sulfuric stench. At least, that is what you think, as your head is swimming quite a bit at this point. The combination of the stress, the pungent stench of cheesy feet and dirty bodies, the disgusting pipe smoke and the heavy wine is getting to you, making you lightheaded and confused. The more the witches discuss the creations, the harder it gets for you to concentrate on the debate. At some point during the third presentation, her lollipop against your unicorn horn, you lose focus entirely. The day filled with new experiences, first the anxiety and anticipation when entering the witches’ domain, the nervousness when conversing with them, the foot licking that had you orgasming harder than ever in your short, innocent life, the game of cock shaping and the long, hard lessons about cocks was just too long for you. Just as the witches discuss whether the ridges around your unicorn horn are thick enough to feel pleasurable inside them, you nod off and drop your wine cup to the ground.

“My, my”, Edmortia says as you bolt up from the sound of metal hitting the ground, “It looks like we’ve kept our guest for too long.” You stutter an apology and pick up the cup, but Caillinn takes it from your hands and says: “Not a problem. Let me take care of this. You must be pretty tired if you can just fall asleep in here, are you?” You blush up and stutter some more apologies, but the witches just laugh and Tamaria says: “It’s alright. We’re just about finished anyways. How about you call it a day.” You try to hide a yawn, then nod. Zaimela and Vemaho both hurry to offer you their company, Zaimela offering you her “hot, sweaty pits and long, nimble tongue” while Vemaho claims that she knows best what mistress likes, but you decline both their offers, saying you would prefer some privacy tonight. The two monster girls pout and bicker for a bit, but quickly calm and settle for a stink filled night of smelly monster girl feet and lesbian sex. You on the other hand say your good nights to the other witches and make your way upstairs into your guest room. Tired and exhausted, you barely manage to take your clothes off before collapsing onto the bed and falling into a deep sleep.

Maybe it’s because of the ****, but your sleep is deep and dreamless. Only towards the end of the night your dreams start to get clearer, but don’t reach the clarity of the dream you had the night before. In a normal state of mind, you would have found them disturbing, filled with smelly monster girls offering themselves to you. Several of them are futas, some with comically large organs, others with cute, small ones. The monster girls seem to generally submit to you, either to kneeling in front of you to lick your feet or getting on their hands and knees and presenting their dripping pussies to you. Stench lies heavily in the air, mostly dominated by cheesy aromas, but you don’t find it offensive, instead accepting it as part of the scene. The monster girls are getting impatient the longer you stare at them, but every time you want to approach one of the lewd, horny monsters, their bodies become hazy and you lose sight of them.

Confused and with a considerable headache, you awake from a ray of sunlight shining through the open window right onto your face. With your hangover, the birds chirping in the garden outside feel like **** rather than peaceful wake-up-calls, but after a few handfuls of cold water, your headache wears off. Instead, you start to feel more and more nervous as today you are supposed to drink a potion that will make you grow a penis. Fear and a strange anticipation are raging within you and making you feel quite uncomfortable, especially after your dream, which thankfully, you only remember vague scenes from. Yet, after you hear a call from downstairs, you take a deep breath and remember what the witches have told you: Monster girls love having sex with futas, and you could use this to your advantage. You take a deep breath and step out of your guest room to join the monster girls downstairs.