Dora gets exactly what she asked for [TF, BE]

I unleashed all my hoarded power in a focused beam centered on Dora, shuddering with euphoria as the energy tore out of me.

She screamed, spine arching and muscles spasming as it struck her like a **** ray from some janky sci-fi flick.

“HYAAAAA~!!”

A shockwave erupted from her body, extinguishing candles and scattering bones across the basement floor. The five kneeling cultists cried out as papers, dust, and occult junk whipped past them.

Dora rose into the air, her feet lifting from the cold cement, shrouded in a glowing scarlet nimbus.

Then the power she so vehemently craved began reshaping her.

This ain’t my first rodeo. Not even remotely.

An experienced diabolist would’ve spent months dissecting every letter of their contract before daring to summon me. We’re talking sub-clauses, contingencies, binding limitations, invocation safeguards—the kind of legal spaghetti that would give a supreme court justice a migraine.

But Dora had essentially handed me a blank check. There were loopholes in her loosely worded demands, large enough to accommodate a parade float.

So, naturally, I seized the opportunity to go completely cray-cray.

She jitterbugged in mid-air, her baggy clothes disintegrated in a burst of shredded cloth.

Her naked figure wasn't anything to write home about, and, unlike in the magical girl animes she watched, I didn’t obscure any of the fun parts with fairy sparkles or conveniently placed wisps of smoke.

Frankly, the knockers I'd given her were Dora’s best feature. Her belly was pale and paunchy. She had a playdough figure, soft and misshapen. Her butt was meh. And cellulite marred her tubby thighs.

Everything was kinda lackluster, but I set about polishing that turd into a diamond.

She craved power? She wanted to be more like me? Wisher beware, sister.

Speaking of power, I needed a deeper well to draw from before I could go much further. Luckily, there were a bunch of juicy mortals I’d already prepared for that purpose.

A handwave blew back the groveling cretons' hoods, revealing five distinctly unappealing young men staring at us with glazed eyes, completely blitzed on my aphrodisiac aura. Each feverish with desire, sweaty, and sporting boners.

A flock of loser sheep waiting to be sheared.

Perfect

They emanated ****, aching lust by the bucketful. Another gesture ripped it painfully from them, as I gathered the energy into myself, then flung it at Dora with an orgasmic giggle.

I might have been a smidge past tipsy at this point.

The vortex grew stronger. The scarlet nimbus flared brighter. Candle smoke spiraled wildly through the basement as I went to work transforming a doormat into a rose... thorns included.

Girl power is fine, but, in my experience, it’s no substitute for a great ass. The staunchest male defender of feminist rights will still rubberneck when a firm, ripe peach saunters by.

I should know. My derriere is pure dynamite.

I’ve done it a million times. With the right strut and sway of the hips, even the holiest men crumble like sandcastles at high tide.

Our mesmerized audience groaned when Dora’s bony backside plumped and rounded into two taut, sculpted globes that could crack walnuts.

Naturally, I stole that resulting outpouring of lust, too. More fuel for the forge.

Legs came next. A girl can’t strut properly without a decent set of gams. Dora let out a breathy moan as hers lengthened, the cottage cheese flesh evaporated, leaving behind smooth skin and firm muscle. I whisked away the hair permanently, leaving superbly toned thighs and a three-inch gap below her now-bald mound.

Thigh gaps are the bomb. They’re basically a flashing neon sign pointing toward the pussy. Dora’s could’ve framed a sunset.

Guys go absolutely gaga for that shit.

I kept at it, molding and sculpting my so-called mistress while she shuddered helplessly within my grasp.

Her short, dung-colored hair grew out in real time–darkening and cascading down to her hypnotic heiny in glossy curls of richest espresso. The shade clashed horribly with her sun-starved complexion, so I fixed that too, giving her skin a gentle tan with sultry undertones while erasing pimples and other blemishes.

Dora’s lips plumped into the ultimate cupid’s bow—eat your heart out, Anya Taylor-Joy. Her nose straightened, and sharp, high cheekbones emerged where chubby cheeks had once dominated her buttery countenance.

On it went. I glutted myself on raw mortal passion while she moaned whorishly and the worthless chattle came in their pants, utterly despondent at being ignored but hopelessly turned on nonetheless.

Even Bevan the Bug was affected–rolling and gasping–humping the cold basement floor despite the agony of his cracked ribs.

Dora’s belly paunch vanished next, along with the doughy softness around her middle, leaving behind a knockout hourglass figure with a tinyfied waist as I funneled the excess fat into her expanding tits.

Hold the phone.

Did I forget to mention Dora’s tits?

I’d morphed her almost-nothings into respectable handfuls at the start, but with so much scrummy lust energy making me lightheaded, I may have got a teensy bit carried away.

And by that, I mean Dora’s respectable handfuls had zoomed right past Sweater Puppies and taken a brisk turn at Hooters to barrel down Chest Cannon Avenue at full tilt.

They were huge by any standard, and we’re not talking sloppy natties. Nothing so unsightly. These giant gazongas sat high and proud on her slender torso. Heavy yet unsagging. No department store bra could contain those big kahunas, and she wouldn’t need one anyway.

I wasn’t about to let gravity spoil the fun.

No, Dora’s bouncy castles would never droop. And they were still inflating.

“I... I… AAYEEE!!” She screamed, unspooling in a messy climax that sprayed pussy honey everywhere.

She made quite the sight, a young fertility idol cumming in mid-air, her hypersexualized body thrashing through paroxysms of hedonistic bliss.

Vacuuming in the vast reserves of carnal mojo saturating the dingy space, I came a little too, before slamming it into Dora…

And fractured her soul.