The Delightfully Mouldable Pip

It's already easy to forget how all of this started: You, bored and unemployed and vaguely trollish, amusing yourself by lying through the teeth about your own skills and qualities to nonplussed employers and organizations. Sufficed to say, you're in a bit of a different place, now. But don't let being transformed into a smoking hot amazonian royal with a thick dick and no fucks to give completely overshadow the other oddities of your journey. Because it's becoming clear that all of the shit you made up about yourself on your application for this...whatever this is? It's all true now. To some extent, at least. Maybe you aren't exactly an Olympic medal-winning fencer, but the experimental swings you've taken with your sword struck you as well-practiced and skilled. You claimed to be 'well versed in all manner of period knowledge', and you're finding if you squint really hard at shit in this dumbo world, like, with your brain or whatever, you get the gist of how it's supposed to work. And especially useful at the moment are your lies about your horseback riding ability, because otherwise you and Pip would be walking down this country road right now. And walking's the straight dumps.

It's lucky that you were magically drawn into this series of lies, and not your application for shift manager at CVS. You're pretty sure you claimed you were secretly Hulk Hogan in that one. That would have really been the straight dumps.

Your appreciation for your own web of deceit wanes somewhat as you feel Pip's arms tighten around your waist again, the petite boy poorly swallowing a girlish moan of delight again as a gush of sticky hotness splurts against your backside again. Fucking hell, the kid is keyed up.

Full disclosure, his first orgasm of the day was your fault. He was still snoring by the time you were dressed and ready to go, and you hadn't anticipated that a cheeky tweak of one of his big, needy nipples would prompt a confused whine and a fountain of cum. That one's on you, okay? And when he was struggling to stuff his juicy rear into the little shorts you provided him with, and his efforts caused him to accidentally knuckle the throbbing plumpness just below his tight little butthole? That sudden burst of embarrassed orgasm was, like, an Act of God or whatever. But after you finally convinced him to squeeze in behind you on your horse, promising to take him somewhere to get his condition checked out? The vibrations of the saddle quickly **** him into busting straight up your back, and his refractory period might as well nothing. You've already reigned your steed down from a gallop to a canter to a trot, and the genitally overburdened table boy still can't keep his goddamn spunk in.

Fuck it. We're bringing the horse all the way down to a walk. This is truly the straight dumps.

Fortunately, you make it to your destination before Pip manages to blast you with so much man-jam that the seat of your pants hardens into steel. Not that it wasn't a close call. You jump from the saddle, taking a moment to plop Pip down onto his feet before peevishly wriggling out of your ruined trousers. "Um, w-what are you...?" Pip swallows hard, eyes widening as they feast on the perfect plumpness of your magical ass. "You unf~, you're n-not wearing p..pa~aants?"

"No, Pip. I'm not. I don't take meetings while caked with jizz." You pause long enough to cock an eyebrow at Pip, who's utterly failing at keeping his hand away from his groin." "I'm just sort of fussy like that."

"O-oh..." Pip swallows again, absentmindedly squeezing his legs together to squish his almost-pussy between his thighs. "Should, um, I...?"

You can't hold in your sigh of annoyance. "If you're worried about decorum, Pip, maybe you should focus on trying not to jack it when I introduce you."

The table boy flushes red, apparently still clutching on to a final shred of dignity. "'M not gonna j-jack it."

"Pip. You are literally jacking it right now."

"Eh?" The boy seems actually surprised when he looks down to find his fingers wrapped around his modest hardness, his previous affront fading into sheepishness. "Oh. S-sorry. It's hard not to..."

"Yeah yeah, I get it. Just hurry up and crack this one out; maybe we can get this over with before your cursed nuts brew up your next load."

Pip blushes again. "You want me to...?"

"Uh, yeah?" When Pip's blush intensifies, you can't hold back a tickled snort. "Seriously?! Buddy, you spent this entire trip nutting down my asscrack, and now you're shy?"

"Those times were accidents! This is different~!"

"Oh Jesus." You take a step towards your companion, the boy doing his best not to quail before your superior height and size. "Do you need me to help you with that?"

Pip gulps again, his pretty little face actually shaking as he fights to keep his eyes from fleeing before your predatory gaze. By some miracle, the transformed boy manages to find a hidden wellspring of resolve. "Use your m-mouth."

"Ha! No." Pip buffs out his cheeks in complaint, only to stiffen when you lean down to drape an arm over his slender shoulder. "I gotta say though, Pip. I didn't think you had it in you to ask." Your smile curls catlike as you slip your fingers into the hair at the back of Pip's head, the boy turning beet red as he stares enthralled at the long line of cleavage you present him. "You've got spunk. I mean-" Pip gasps when you tip a finger below his straining cock, drawing your digit up to let it slip from your touch and slap against his sticky thigh, "Clearly, right?"

The boy is clearly summoning up the will for another retort, but whatever it was going to be dies in vain as you draw Pip into a passionate kiss. He briefly turns steel-stiff, only to melt as you continue to caress the back of his head and indulge him with the taste of your lips. He shudders as you carefully take hold of his pocket-sized manhood, mindfully pointing it towards the ground moments before he releases his newest spurt. You hold him there for a long moment, almost chastely kissing from the waist up even as below the he's firing off rope after rope of cum.

Eventually, his output seems to taper off, Pip's eyes sparkling as you draw away from his plush lips. "That was so~oooo-!!!"

He yelps as you shake a final shot out of him, confident at last that you've wrung the boy dry. "There, finally. Let's get on with this."

The remote storefront to which you'd brought Pip was...well, there wasn't a fancy way of saying it. It was a mess. Junk was piled up in every corner, the windows were gunked over, there was cat hair on everything...if this was your old world? You'd have been entirely confident that whoever lived here was either an Internet-addicted shut-in or a six-month old corpse.

Apparently he's neither of those things, however. Apparently, this was the home of the foremost enchanter in the damn world. Go figure.

Pip certainly doesn't seem convinced, the boy all but recoiling from the heaps of refuse strewn all across the floor. "Is this, uh, normal?"

"I guess?" You offer an airy shrug. "Everyone says this guy's an artist, and artists are all free-spirited and shit, right? It's fine if he's a slob, so long as his work's good."

"But couldn't he just, um, magic it all away or something?"

Huh. Maybe? You squint at the question with your brain, quickly coming back with the answer. "Nah. Totally different kind of magic. If he was the sort of wizard who could do that, he wouldn't be any help with your particular problem. Get it?"

"Oh! Oh, well that-"

Pip's response is cut off when the door to the back room, a door you would have sworn was barricaded in by an insurmountable wall of trash, bursts open to reveal either a genius mage or a deranged hobo. He's got on a raggedy pair of underwear and nothing else, stripped bare to reveal a scraggly frame and a tattoo of a shrugging pig with 'POBODY'S NERFECT' scrawled in giant letters across his chest. His beard manages to meet your wizardly expectations, at least, long and gray with some charms and stuff braided in. But the positive marks end there, because he's got a pair of silky panties stretched over his face and a wild look in his strangely colorless eyes as he very unwizardfully starts to rummage through a pile of trash like a starving raccoon, or the child of an overbearing parent who accidentally threw away their retainer.

You've got a lot of thoughts, and your first one is 'Woof'. Still, you're here. You're here, and you got came on six times to get here. One doesn't just turn around and leave after that sort of effort. "Yeah hey, we're then-"

"Shh shh shh! Shh~! Shush! You shush." The wizard impatiently quiets you as he continues to dig through his various heaps of garbage, eventually pulling a bottle of something blue and writhing out of a particularly foul-looking heap. He crows in triumph, looking for all the world as if he'd just found the golden egg as he uncorks his find and pops it into his mouth, tipping it vertical as the liquid seems to struggle and fight against being imbibed. He jabs his long tongue into the bottle, the liquid actually striking down at the fleshy invader as the two engage in the single most bizarre battle for survival that you've ever seen. At length, it's the liquid's defeat, the blue ooze somehow projecting a defeated air as the wizard slurps it down and then tosses the bottle over his shoulder, immediately clutching at his head. "Oh God. Why. The fuck. Do I do this to myself? Every goddamn time. 'Nooo, Medwed, you can still party! You should party all night!' Stupid, so stupid. I should--" He trails off when he remembers that he's not alone, hands still clutching his temples but his voice taking on an almost professional tone. "Can I help you?"

"I've got no fucking idea. But we do have an appointment, so..."

"Oh. Oh." The wizard Medwed straightens, taking a moment to crack his back and pull the panties off of his face before giving you a surprisingly professional once over. "Nope. Won't do it, whatever it is."

"What? Fucking why?"

"Because you're perfect." Medwed manages to find a tattered robe from somewhere, looking bizarrely like Harry Potter via Meth Lab as he stands there in his robe and underwear and works a bony finger into his ear. "Even if I could change you, I wouldn't. It would be a crime against existence. But even then, I simply can't do it. Because, again: you're perfect. Can't change something if no part of me wants to see any part of it change."

"Huh." You fold your arms under your breasts, cocking an eye at the strange wizard. "I mean, that's super weird and also pretty awesome?"

"I don't make the rules, I just work here." Medwed wipes his finger off against his robe. "Any addition on you would be a subtraction. And any subtraction would be a double subtraction. Which in magic, unlike arithmetic, does not make an addition. It makes freaky mystical paradoxes, which suck. So~" He yawns, scratching at his tattoo, "Sorry for the wasted trip, but-"

"Yeah no. The job's not me, obviously. It's for Pip" You wrangle Pip in front of you. "Him."

"Huh." Medwed peers at Pip a moment, running a thoughtful hand through his beard. "It is 'him', isn't it...But he seems to be...hm. Hm!" The wizard surges forward, quickly inspecting the mortified table boy with the efficiency of a skilled professional. "He's stuck in the middle of some sort of low-rent gender modification. Don't see this very often." He gently puts two fingers to Pip's neck, taking his pulse as he questions the boy in a doctorly fashion. "Are you feeling anemic?"

Pip has not heard that word before. "Uh?"

"Sorry. Do you feel tired, or weak?"

"Oh. Um, no?"

"Any pain in your joints or limbs?"

"N-no."

"Have you been feeling a sort of increased activity here?" He lightly presses his fingers to Pip's abdomen, just above where you think his kidneys are. "Like a strange energy?"

"Oh! Yes!"

"Have you been ejaculating nonstop?"

Pip's cheeks and neck start to boil again. "Oh. Um...."

Medwed straightens. "Right, got it. Your name was Pip?" When the boy nods hesitantly, Medwed offers a comforting smile. "I'm Medwed, and I'd like to help you. Is that okay?" Pip nods much less hesitantly this time, so Medwed continues. "Pip, what you're experiencing right now is...well, there isn't a medical term for it, so I'll have to be a bit crass. You're metaphysically blue-balling."

Pip somehow manages to flush even hotter, but you're fascinated. "What the fuck does that mean?"

"Well," Medwed folds his arms behind his back, his professorial air almost disguising the fact that he's a bizarre man in his underwear holding court within a palace of garbage, "The magic inside of his body is driven to seek the release of completion, but is simultaneously too weak to achieve it and too strong to fade away."

"The magic inside Pip is edging?"

"Yes that is exactly it." He turned his eyes back to Pip. "And given the sexual nature of said magic, being locked in this state is keeping you in a similarly heightened state. Magic is a real dick like that, trust me."

Pip swallows hard, fighting back his embarrassment. "W-well, can you help me?"

"Of course! Super easy. Here."

Medwed snaps his fingers before Pip can respond, the boy's joyful thanks trailing off as a loud gurgle rumbles from his core. The boy frowns, carefully pressing his hands just above his pelvis as the noise groans out again. Pip's eyebrows shoot up as he whips his fingers away from his abdomen, his lower body visibly pulsing as something begins to happen to him. But the boy doesn't have time to ponder what's hidden inside him, because at that moment his hands dart to his straining nipples as what had once been soft lil' boy boobies bubble up into small but unmistakable breasts. Pip nearly manages to get an intelligible sentence out before his words descend into babbling, then a full-on squeal as a torrent of liquid gushes down his thigh, the plump potentially between his legs blossoming into a particularly plump pussy that greedily devours the material of his shorts even as it sputters in long-overdue feminine release.

It's all Pip can do to collapse on the ground in a puddle of his own juices, both sets of genitals exulting in their existence as they continually drench the boy in a waterfall of jizz and girlcum. Jesus. You feel compelled to speak for those too busy orgasming to do so themselves. "Not to backseat enscorcell here, Medwed, but I'm pretty sure Pip was hoping you'd take things in the opposite direction."

"Ah. Sorry. Doesn't work like that."

"Figures."