Becoming the Witch’s Familiar

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“Why the fuck did you not help out, you bitch? I almost fucking died!” Sara shouted at the tiny witch, now sitting by the campfire with her hat by her side.

With the morning sun rising once again only an hour or so after their encounter, it was the perfect time to address this concern as their night diligence did not allow for such a serious conversation to demand their attention more than what was already allocated. Wolves traveled in packs and altered ones may do the same, afterall.

Ashara picked up a pebble and threw it at the smoldering remains of their campfire, her eyes still not meeting her accuser’s. “Consider it a test, Sare-bear! How would I know what spells you picked up if you never showed them to me before our fight with Eldura?” She snickered, implicitly stating that this was not the actual reason for her inaction. “Although I am quite upset to see that you used the spell I actually taught you instead of something new… Did that dork not actually show you anything?”

“If you wanted to know what spells I learned, I could just tell you, you fucking whore!”

“Whoa, whoa Sare-bear! Don’t forget who’s the actual, literal whore now!” The witch placed her hands up placatively, her smug grin growing wider, “I got an idea! How about you sleep with that useless sack of waste and just steal his magic? It’s all he’s good for anyways!”

Sara grew red in the face. Light headed from the wound, what blood she had left was putting in overtime.

“Why the fuck do you always talk down to the man you set as my fucking teacher?” The succubus began to grow even hotter, “I joined you on this fucking stupid quest to kill another witch, saved you from rotting in a dwarven prison, killed a fucking strange wolf man and you have the absolute fucking gall to act like such a fucking bitch around me?”

The witch sat silently. Gone was her cheeky grin as all traces of her childish joviality had vanished in an instant.

“Never have I met anyone as fucking dishonest, conniving, childish and untrusting as you, bitch. Have you considered that’s why I am so fucking relieved to not be tied to the definitively worst fucking person I have ever met in both my lives? Maybe I should have died against the fucking wolf. Hells, I might just roll over and let it happen after all the injuries I took!”

Sara could not catch what the witch mouthed to herself.

“Say it again, you damned whore! Tell me how you really feel and then I’ll fucking leave you to fight your own fucking petty battle against some fucking witch that now had done two favors for me!” Sarakiel turned away from her former master, acting as if she was to set out on her own, “Fuck! Maybe I should join up with her instead? I’m sure she knows how to treat her ‘friends’, like you claim we are, better than you fucking would!”

Silence answered the succubus, leading her to act upon her threat.

As she began to walk away from camp, a shout rang out, “Wait! Sara!”

The succubus stopped, still not turning around.

“I’m…” Ashara trailed off, her rosy cheeks growing even rosier, “I don’t like anyone doing nice things for me…” Her frown held on, the normally bubbly witch actually looking somber for a change, “Something- something awful happened to the last person who I considered a friend. Something that makes me… Ugh. Something that… regularly makes me want to kill myself some times.”

Sara turned around. The witch finally earned her attention.

“In truth, you scare me, Sara…” The tiny woman made herself smaller, tucking in her legs and wrapping her arms around them tightly, “I’ve done awful, dreadful things to you, and you still came back to save me…”

“I just don’t…” It was plain to see the witch was having a harder and harder time keeping herself together.

Streams of tears ran down her face, “I just- I just don’t know how to talk to you! Talk to people…! You treat someone nice, they use you. Someone treats you nice, they betray you. It becomes a game of who can screw over who first, something that hurts more and more each time.”

Sobs began to interrupt her speech, “I- I locked myself in that cave so I can’t be hurt. Can’t be hurt by anyone. After enough people hurt you, you start to realize that maybe it’s you? I don’t know!” Ashara could barely speak any more, every word coming out as a scream to win out over her uncontrollable sobs. “I’m sorry, okay?! I’m sorry to you! I’m sorry to Modius! I’m sorry to A-”

A hand gently grasped the witch’s shoulder, stopping her for a moment before she slowly poured herself into the first warm touch she had in centuries.

- - - -

“I genuinely have no clue as to how this happened!” Bellamy’s voice had deepened. Gone was the shrill, high pitched squeals of the slime and instead were the low dulcet tones of a fully grown woman.

Still consisting of the now opaque white liquid, mixed with the dull reds of her recently completed feast, Bellamy now stood as tall as Ashara, but with more curves in her figure. She now had the general shape of a woman, her face an alluring copy of what can only be described as sculpted, a now single eye fit naturally in her face, the other covered by the facsimile of hair, a strange recreation of long well-kept locks, which continued to cascade down her back. She appeared to be a sculpture of a human with a notable exception: her hands were not attached to her shoulders, but now each large enough to wrap around her waist emerging from the base of her form.

The tiny witch poked what looked like the breasts on the slime’s new form, taking the shape of supple mounds with a good amount of heft. “You know they say when an alchemist makes a slime vessel, it takes the subconscious form of what the creator wants, right?” Her look of envy for the endowment of the monster turned into a knowing smug grin, one that flustered Bellamy.

“I-I simply ha-have no idea what you seem to be im-implying!” She stammered, seemingly flustered by this new shape.

Sara knew these emotions well.

“Wait…” The succubus began to hazard a guess, “Were you-”

“I- I was a man before, yes!” Bellamy blocked the accusation before it manifested, her mouth now moving with the words, “But if what your witch friend claims is true, th-then…” She looked down at her hourglass figure before her massive hands suddenly covered herself, “I-I need clothes! An alchemist cannot simply faff about in-! In-!”

The succubus sighed, “You get used to it…”

She felt for her kindred soul, a proud professional who’s whole identity was tied to carrying one of the core tenants of manhood before being abruptly taken away. At least Bellamy got to choose how she now looked, albeit subconsciously.

Ashara now had another reason to look upon the slime in contempt, her eyes still swollen from her tears. She was grateful for the distraction. “If it’s so bad, why don’tcha change how you look? You’re made of goop after all.”

The giant hands on both sides of the slime began to try to press and shape her form. Every knead and massage only resulted in a recoil, bouncing back to her new feminine reality.

That was the day both the witch and the former familiar learned that slimes can cry.

- - - -

Asphodel laid her head on Eldura’s chest. Casually circling her partner’s nipple with the tip of her finger, she actually enjoyed the relatively lack of mass they had behind them. They made her feel even closer to the other witch’s heart. “Have you heard from C’thugua today?”

The dark haired witch looked disquieted by hearing his name out loud, something she still had not grown used to as of yet, “I told him I’ll speak with him after I’m done here with you, dear…” However, her expression soon flipped completely around, “He said he found me something nice to help with our mutual friend.”

Propping herself up on one arm, the flowery witch still remained in the crook of Eldura’s elbow, “And how long did you tell him we were going to be?”

“Oh, I don’t know…” Her grin widening, the onomancer looked away coyfully, enjoying the attention, “Maybe an hour or two?”

Asphodel leaned in, her lips meeting her lover’s once again, “You know it’s already been around three or so…” Her breath was heavy, warm with both what they have already done and what she wanted to continue to do.

Eldura felt herself growing excited hearing the anticipation in her lover’s voice. She looked down at the woman who appeared out of nowhere and knocked her off her feet; blonde, hazel eyes, and the plump cheeks of an angel. Looks alone would not lead the witch to trusting this once perfect stranger, but as the two worked closer and closer together, thanks to a new benefactor, they found themselves desiring each other's time more often.

It was… nice.

Practicing onomancy since the early days of her pact, now around ten years or so ago, Eldura had spent that time in relative solitude. Ostracized because of her appearance and her lisp, she had always resented the women that, in a bit of irony, looked like her now lover. They were always selected for the most superficial of reasons: they got to eat first, they got to go outside, they got to live what little life they all shared.

“He can wait…” The long nosed witch decided to take the initiative for once, planting a kiss and grasping Asphodel’s bare breast, her spindly fingers firmly wrapping around the desirable feature. “It’s been a while since we got to see each other like this. I want to make sure you miss me as soon as we’re done…”

The flowery witch could only giggle, “I made sure I had this whole day devoted for you, love… Let’s not waste it.”

Moving down from her lips, to her stomach, to her bare pussy, Eldura covered her journey over her lover’s body with gentle kisses. Placing herself between Asphodel’s luscious thighs, she slid her tongue over the edge of the witch’s vaginal lips.

A salty taste greeted her, just as moist as the tongue that ran over them, sometimes even sliding in for a second. Small hairs added to the fun, something the normally meticulous blonde witch never let grow this long, she must have been working hard lately.

Asphodel slid her delicate hands between her thighs, pushing them back to open a way for the other witch’s tongue. Her breathing grew heavy as she was beginning to warm up yet again.

With another long and deliberate lick, the dark haired witch flattened her tongue against the crease, forcing her partner to arc her back in delight. Eldura’s arms slid around the back of the legs, providing leverage for her to push herself inside.

The horizontal lips met the vertical, letting her press her tongue in. Her appendage was certainly not long enough to satisfy her lover, but she only needed to go to one spot to ensure she felt as good as possible.

Running her tongue up again, this time on the inside of the vagina, she rolled through her partner’s labia until reaching the northernmost edge where an erect bean came in contact. Upon the meeting of the two, arced Asphodel once more, letting loose a gasp of excitement.

“Y-you don’t have to take the lead-!” The blonde stammered, currently riding the body high.

As she pulled away from her partner’s most intimate parts, Eldura smiled, “I don’t have to, but I want to…” For the one person who made her feel human again, she only deserved the best.

With a few more minutes of licking and slight nibbling, Asphodel was more than ready for what was next.

Time for them both to feel good.

Monster notes: Slime

Strange creatures that were said to be more abundant in centuries ago, we now know more about the creature than ever, since there has been no prior record of such monsters gaining sentience. Created by alchemists hundreds of years ago in order to attain immortality, the slime’s body is just a core that acts as a central nervous system and the gelatinous body around it that can digest smaller organic life inside. At the cost of the alchemist’s life, they sort of ‘uploaded’ their mind to the core after completion, however the slime does not retain any of the original memories of their life. They do, however, retain some of the personality and what the alchemist preferred as an ‘ideal body’, be it busty vixens or muscular men. In a way, their wish for immortality came true.

The slime is created by the core subconsciously and is constructed by the nutrients of the biomatter consumed by the slime as well as the mana to 'turn on' the core and bring it out of it's slumber. This, in turn, leaves the slime to be a strange mix of colors, typically resulting in a rustic brown (due to the blood). The slime is quite viscous and operates similar to an amoeba’s foot, that can extend as long as the core desires, and can break off. The residual slime has been used in some form of traditional treatment, but no confirmation of its effects have been documented.

Everything but the core is water soluble, resulting in hydrophobia in the core. If only the core remains, it must be treated with a nutrient infused salve until it can generate it’s own slime. This process always require another individual, leading to an unknown number of cores remaining derelict out in the world. Thankfully, they seem to sort of go dormant unless they have a working body. Lastly, it has been observed that removing the core from the slime body, causes the slime to lose all structure, but can regain shape when the core is re-inserted. It is unknown what would happen if another core is placed into another operating slime.