Switchcraft

By Gregor Daniels

Fed up with their poor luck with women, three perverts decide to conjure up the perfect female specimen with the help of a little witchcraft. But instead of their fantasies coming true, it's an inter-dimensional being who is as perverted as they are. Luke, Charles, and Blaine will get to live out some fantasies all right—just not their own!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gregor Daniels
• Release date: Apr 17, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463288306

Gregor Daniels

Gregor Daniels is an erotica author that specializes in gender swap and erotic transformation fetishes. New stories are typically released weekly and feature a variety of themes. Have you ever had fantasies to be a girl? Then look no further ...Contact the author directly on Twitter to discuss stories, share your favorite ideas and fantasies, scenes, and characters, or to just talk about nothing in particular.

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Contents

One

Two

Three

Four

Copyright © 2020 Gregor Daniels

All rights reserved.

Only ADULTS beyond this point.

All characters are consenting adults at least eighteen years old.

CAUTION: Conjuring inter-dimensional beings may be detrimental to your privates.

We were up in Blaine’s attic. The record-hot Louisiana summer had us all sweating like horny nuns. But his attic was the only wide-enough area we could find—after shoving aside boxes full of Christmas ornaments. The pentagram had to be five feet by five feet. And we figured if we started doodling emblems of the Dark Lord out on the driveway pavement, some nosy neighbor might get the wrong idea.

Charles nailed string to an arbitrary center and tied off red chalk on the other end—after being reminded that the string represented the radius and therefore was only supposed to be two-and-a-half feet long. He drew a circle along the wood, and doubled back to thicken the stroke. Then he filled in the lines for the five-pointed star.

Not one of us had any damn clue if it would work. We had the candles, the invocations, the patience. But even after gathering the supplies and meeting up in this hot-as-fuck attic, I thought we were just three morons infected with boredom. Hell, Charles was the only one who attended church. Blaine and I didn’t believe in anything. And after it was all over and done with, and nothing had come out of this idiotic show except a red pentagram for the next homebuyer to find, we were going to crack open some drinks and laugh at our stupidity.

Just like in the twelfth grade when Blaine had tried to hypnotize Charles’s sleeping mother with a supposedly magic coin—all so he could see her naked.

He wasn’t allowed over again.

Does that look round to you, Luke? Charles asked. He was perspiring so much that his shaggy hair looked like a wet mop.

I guess so, I said.

Well you guess so or guess not so?

It’s close enough.

The instructions say it doesn’t have to be exactly perfect, Blaine informed us. He had a stapled set of papers he’d printed off from the internet describing the process.

As if I needed more proof that this wasn’t going to work.

With the pentagram taken care of, next was lighting the candles. There were five in total—one for each point of the star. Did it make sense? Not really. But in the movies, the pentagram always had candles, so I figured the author of this nonsensical ritual and taken influence from The Craft or something. Never seen the whole movie, but I’d learned what a hard-on was with the help of a gothed-up Fairuza Balk.

I helped Charles with the candles. They were cinnamon scented, from Wal-Mart. Again, the instructions didn’t really specify.

Ah, fuck, Blaine panted, wiping the sweat off his brow.

"We should’ve waited until night, or you know, winter," I suggested.

The website said the chances of success improve with the hotter it is.

Right, the instructions.

I think you just want us to die, Charles said, plopping down for a rest and chugging water.

Fortunately we were just about finished. With the ceremonial space labeled and illuminated, all we had left were the invocations. And even those were easy. Rather than having to twist our tongues around some Latin phrases—like in those same movies—we each were tasked with writing short paragraphs about the one woman in our lives we were most attracted to. It could