Chapter 23

I held Lacey close as we floated on our shared orgasm. I enjoyed the rush of orgasmic energy, while a cum drunk Lacey lay limply in my arms. My cock remained hard inside her, acting as a plug, keeping my cum inside her. She would need all of it if she wanted to receive the full range of benefits my cum could provide, and feel no worse for wear after the punishment I had inflicted upon her tight, teenage pussy.

Thinking about it made me wonder about the effects of my cum, and more specifically, how a girl’s body absorbed it. As far as I knew, when they swallowed it, it went through the same processes as any other food. But when I filled a girl’s pussy or ass, how did their body absorb it to gain its benefits? Although, to be fair, more often than not, any girl I came in was usually quickly cleaned out by another girl.

It was during my musings that I began to notice something. As I monitored Lacey’s body, I noticed my cum was being absorbed right through the membrane that formed the walls of her pussy in some form of jizz-based-osmosis. Like with my mental powers, it was an instinctive thing to use my power to monitor this process. It wasn’t a particularly taxing use of my new power, the amount of energy it required was minimal.

Moving on from a physical to a mental examination, I looked into her mind for more details about her relationship with her father. I hoped this might help me determine if she was a potentially good fit for my harem or not. There was something about her I liked, but her attitude regarding wealth, or lack thereof, and the emotional baggage she had from both school and her father concerned me. Also, from what I saw of her interaction with her father, I was concerned that her rebellious spirit may cause problems with me and the other women in my harem.

My initial impression of her had been that of a stuck up rich girl, with an overdeveloped sense of self-importance, who only seemed interested in status. But in her current state, I could now see that was all just an act. A facade to hide that, in reality, she was an emotionally vulnerable young girl. Reaching deeper, I searched for more details of her past, looking for her most powerful memories. Almost immediately, I found the reason for her vulnerability and the tension between her and her father.

When she was 12, she and her mother were involved in a car crash that had left her unharmed, but killed her mother. A lorry driver had been driving for too long without the required rest, and had fallen asleep at the wheel. The experience had left her with a nasty case of survivor’s guilt. She blamed herself for the accident; if not for her, her mother would have never been on the road in the first place. The guilt she felt was almost as damaging as the grief she was feeling. Her father, who was also grieving, grew distant from her. He worked longer hours, denying the pain and suppressing the loss, avoiding his daughter and the help she needed.

I looked closer at the source of the guilt she felt. Earlier that day, Lacey had gotten into a fight at school. At the time, something very out of character for her. She had seen a friend being picked on by two other girls and had stepped in to help her friend. Things escalated from there, and a teacher had needed to pull the girls apart. The school had then called her parents to come and pick her up and take her home. Standard protocol for any student involved in a physical altercation. Lacey reasoned that if she hadn’t been in that fight, her mother would still be alive. She blamed herself for her mother’s death, and she took her father’s harsh behaviour, along with being sent to a boarding school, as her father’s way of blaming her. They both dealt, or rather failed to deal, with their grief differently.

Her father withdrew into himself and avoided her as much as possible, throwing himself into his work. He took on extra assignments and worked longer hours. He devoted himself entirely to his career to avoid facing reality and not be there to help his daughter work through her grief.

At the time of the crash, her father was a mid-level manager at a large multinational corporation. While he made decent money, they were a pretty standard middle-class family. Within a year, he was promoted to a senior management position that required some travel. A little over a year ago, Lacey’s father was promoted again, this time to a director’s position as the new head of national sales. The new position not only came with a much higher salary, but also gave him stock options. But, the position also required a lot of travel. His time at home became even less frequent, with most of his nights spent in hotels paid for by the company.

At the same time, Lacey started to act out in an attempt to gain her father’s attention. She was hurting after losing her mother, which she blamed herself for; she needed to be comforted, reassured, and loved by her father. Instead of receiving that emotional support, she was pushed away, leaving her feeling abandoned and thinking her father blamed her for her mother’s death.

From what I had been able to see, I suspected that her father loved her, but was unaware of how he was hurting his daughter, blinded by his grief. I was only 2 when my father had died and didn’t remember him. It was only recently, with the help of my powers, that I realised just how withdrawn my mother had become in the wake of my father’s death. In trying to shut out her grief, she had locked away a large part of herself. If not for the support of my grandmother before she passed away, and the need to care for her children, I’m not sure she would have been able to carry on like she had.

They say the only thing stronger than the true love of a married couple is the maternal love a mother has for her children. My grandmother was also grieving the loss of her husband and her son. I think it helped both of them that they could support each other. That same kind of support is what Lacey should have had with her father.

I don’t know how I would have handled myself over the long term if Mom had reacted the way Lacey’s father had. Maybe I too, would have acted out just like Lacey. In this case, though, the more likely result would be Lauren being affected the most. I had no genuine relationship with my father that I could remember, but Lauren was four years older, and she would have stronger memories and emotional attachment to our father.

Maybe I thought of her as a possible addition to my harem because I understood, to a degree, the loss she felt; but the rational part of my mind reminded me that sympathy should not be my main motivation for doing so. I should try to see what would be best for her and her father. If I could help reconcile the two, shouldn’t I try that first? Not exactly an Uncle Ben/Peter Parker moment, but I realised that with the powers I have, that I should be holding myself to a higher standard of responsibility if I planned on using them on others. I was glad that I had my mother, Amara, and even Laura and the twins to help keep me grounded.

Lacey’s pattern of acting out eventually went too far, and she got expelled from school. She had been getting in more and more trouble in her efforts to get her father’s attention, and the school had finally said ‘enough was enough’. They had given her some leeway, considering her situation, but even that had its limits.

However, her father only responded by telling her she was being sent to a boarding school instead, and the next day sent her off. He didn’t act angry, or sad, or show any other emotions at all. He was clinical and unemotional in his actions. He simply made the arrangements, and had a driver take her to her new school. He didn’t even see her off, say goodbye, or even send a text or make a phone call.

She continued to act out at her first boarding school until she was introduced to the world of lesbian sex by one of the few girls she hadn’t pushed away in her first few months. Her new relationship provided her with an emotional outlet, as well as a distraction. Her attitude improved and she started to become less of a bitch to everyone. She was doing well academically too, as she was quite intelligent. Socially, she started making new friends and even a few lovers. While it calmed her, and she stopped acting out and made friends, it was short-lived.

The school’s headmistress was a strict and uncompromising disciplinarian, with a love for the rules. She was also a highly conservative christian, warning her charges that “unnatural and godless activities” would not be tolerated. When Lacey was caught engaged in a lesbian threesome in an empty classroom while the rest of the school was in assembly. She, along with her two friends, were expelled.

This time, her father didn’t even see or speak to her before sending her away again. Instead, he arranged for a hired driver to pick her up from one school, and taken directly to another. She once again found herself quickly drawn into the lesbian scene. It happened much sooner this time around because she intentionally went looking for it.

For several months, she was relatively happy. She still felt guilty, and grieved for her mother, but having a friendly and even intimate relationship gave her a positive outlook that helped her deal with the pain. However, an incident on her 15th birthday saw her kicked out again. This time she was kicked out because one of the head girls, a frequent guest in Lacey’s bed, snuck in some alcohol to celebrate Lacey being another year older. A few drunken dares later, and Lacey found herself streaking through the school. Unfortunately, one of the school staff caught her running around naked.

The second school had been more lax on relationships between students. They understood that housing a large group of hormonal teen girls in close proximity to each other, would likely lead to the girls blowing off steam and exploring their sexuality. The headmistress at this school took a much more progressive approach to her students exploring and discovering themselves. So long as it didn’t cause any disruptions, and was done discreetly, the teachers didn’t intervene.

However, following her naked and intoxicated run, which ended when she ran into one of the school’s night-time hall monitors, she was expelled. Despite their more liberal attitude towards sex, the school had an explicit zero-tolerance policy on alcohol and tobacco.

This time, Lacey had to be taken home. The only time in the three weeks she was home that she actually saw her father was when he ranted at her to pull herself together. He repeatedly reminded her of “how many strings he had to pull” and how expensive it was to get her into a private boarding academy. This was the last one, and she would need to make it work.

His rant and lecture were the most emotion her father had displayed since her mother’s funeral. She promised to make it work. Unfortunately, Lacey found the 3rd and final boarding school to be her own personal hell. It was full of stuck-up and arrogant rich girls, whose greatest aspirations in life were to marry an even richer man from a respectable family, live out the rest of their days as a trophy wife, attending social events, and popping out a few babies.

Lacey never felt that she fit in at the new school, finding she had very little in common with her new schoolmates. While her father’s rapid promotions meant they were now fairly well off, it was nothing compared to the ‘old family money’ most of the other girls came from.

Things got worse for her when she tried to indulge her lesbian tendencies. Unlike the previous boarding schools, the girls at the third school didn’t share her sexual inclinations, or at least didn’t admit to it. She was ridiculed, teased, and shunned by the other girls. Eventually, she lost her temper with the school’s ‘Queen Bee’ and uber-bitch.

A fistfight resulted in two black eyes for the posh bitch, and a chunk of missing hair for Lacey. Once again, she was expelled from school. To make matters worse, the bully’s mother was very well connected, and leveraged those connections to make sure that no other charter schools would accept her as a student. Her father discovered this rather quickly when he began searching for a new school.

Back at home, her father flat out refused to speak with her. She knew he was furious, she could practically hear his teeth grinding from across the room. Instead of talking with her or sending her to a public school, he just threw tutor after tutor at her. The most recent of these was a man with whom she was caught having sex. It was the first time she’d had full penetrative sex with a male. Their relationship had lasted a month before they got caught by her father.

Frustrated, and having no further options, her father had no choice but the take Lacey with him on his business trips until he could find a solution. Lacey knew her father had been in contact with private schools in Switzerland, Poland, Canada, and the United States. She dreaded being shipped off to a foreign country, not wanting to be so far from what was left of her home and family, broken as it was.

I withdrew from Lacey’s mind, returning to awareness of my surroundings. I knew it would take time to think through what I had learned, but I knew I had to do something eventually. I felt sorry for Lacey. She needed to be comforted, consoled, and loved after the death of her mother, and still did to a degree. But instead of her father being the source of compassion she needed him to be, he abandoned her and left her to grieve alone. Then, from her perspective, her father’s grief had turned to anger, even blaming her for the tragic death of his wife. He may not have consciously faulted her for it, but that’s how she interpreted his emotional distance, being sent away, and his temper.

No child should have to go through an accident that results in the death of a parent. And no child should be shunned by their father and left alone to grieve following such an ordeal. That was partly why she was happier when she could freely explore her sexuality with the other girls at her first two boarding schools. She had been emotionally abandoned at a vital point in her life. Feeling some emotional connection and understanding fulfilled a profound need. Not in the way she needed it most, but it helped.

I now had a better understanding of why Lacey appeared as such a bratty, stuck-up bitch at first. Before her mother’s death, she had been a kind, loving, energetic, and happy young girl. However, now that sweet girl was racked with guilt and grief that she didn’t know how to deal with. To avoid the pain, Lacey had constructed this new persona to shield herself from the new self-destructive emotions.

While understanding her was all well and good, it meant that I now faced a quandary. On the one hand, I wanted to induct Lacey into my harem and give her the love and support she needed, as well as allowing her to express her sexuality without fear of reprisal. I wanted to be the one to help her recover from her traumatic past and return to being the girl she was before. She wouldn’t need to hide behind the bitchy persona she had adopted anymore.

On the other hand, I could just as easily use my powers to help Lacey and her father reconcile by having him confront his feelings of loss rather than trying to bury them under his work. I could give them both the chance to rebuild their relationship into one that would hopefully allow them to heal together and come out stronger. It would take work, and there could be no shortcuts. While I could give them a push in the right direction, I wasn’t going to be able to fix everything. I wasn’t even sure if I could.

They would, by far, be the most significant mental changes I had made to date, and despite my current success, I was still wary about just how much I should change someone. It wasn’t just the question of ability, but of morality. Just because I can, doesn’t mean I should. I’m no expert and I didn’t want to make matters worse. At the end of the day, mending their relationship would require effort from both of them, as well as the desire to reconnect.

Before I made any sort of decision that would affect either of them, I would have to meet her father and look into his mind to get his perspective. Grief can alter one’s perception of things, and I wanted to know all the factors at play before I made a decision that could potentially change both their lives. Her father could be broken beyond repair, or only need a small push to help him along.

I think my mother could provide some insight into the situation, and would be a great asset in helping me choose the right path to take. I felt that speaking to her would help me have a better understanding of the situation from the parent’s point of view. Like Lacey’s father, she had lost her partner, and much of herself became withdrawn as a coping mechanism. From what I had seen in Lacey’s mind, her father had become similarly withdrawn but to a greater degree.

Right now however, Lacey was sleeping, her father was away, and I was sexually charged with a new power to explore.

Happy that, for now, I had made the right choice, I left Lacey to sleep off the explosive string of orgasms. I did leave her with a few commands in place though. Once she woke up, she would head back to her room as her father had originally instructed her. Until I visited them tomorrow, she would continue on as normal.

I left and headed back across the hall to the main suite. A quick flick of my mind towards the bedroom showed that my girls were still sleeping, although not as deeply as before. It wouldn’t be long before they woke up. Rather than risk waking them early, I used the large main bathroom that was unattached from any of the bedrooms, all of which had their own en-suites.

Feeling good about myself and confident I had enough energy to test out my new power, I stripped off my clothes and looked at myself in one of the full-length mirrors in our opulent bathroom. I had always tried to keep in shape by going to the gym at least three times a week, running when the weather allowed, and being mindful to eat healthily. However, since bonding with Amara, all of that was pretty much redundant.

Over the last week or so, I had watched as my body became more toned and muscled, and experienced a substantial increase to my stamina, sexual and otherwise. Amara had told me that our bonding changed me on a cellular level, allowing my body to store and utilise the sexual energy that powered my wishes, in addition to its normal energy sources. My body burned calories at an accelerated rate, which meant that I needed to eat more. Fortunately, I was able to consume more high-calorie foods without any of the normal negative effects. It also had the secondary effect of allowing me to use all the extra sexual energy I had stored to increase my speed and strength to superhuman levels.

I was thrilled that my new metabolic rate allowed me to eat whatever I wanted with no ill effects. Desserts that I had only consumed occasionally, I could now eat two or three times a day. This trait seems to have been “inherited” by the girls in my harem, as they were also starting to eat far more than usual, without gaining any weight. Amara explained that this secondary effect upon my women was from the enhanced DNA carried by my cum ... By ingesting copious amounts of my potent semen, my enhanced DNA impacted their biochemistry and improved their bodies in ways similar to my own enhancements.

Amara explained to me that my semen had other effects as well:increasing their energy, making them healthier, and increasing their sex drive. It even accelerated their healing from any injuries they received. Something I imagine Emily would benefit from. Her more ‘niche’ sexual preferences had often left her sore for days before she joined my harem. How that bruises and soreness the next day were no longer as much of a concern for her, she could now enjoy the more “violent” sex she craved more often.

The most obvious changes so far have been to my physical appearance. My body didn’t have a shred of excess fat on it anymore; I was shredded AF, far beyond what my regular exercise could account for. Corded muscles covered my body with a level of definition people spent vast amounts of time and money trying to achieve. I knew that I was stronger than what should be humanly possible, but now I almost looked the part.

I could do more than just build and shape muscles with my new power though. I could adjust my appearance to whatever I wanted. The few parts of my looks that I wasn’t completely happy with were almost inconsequential, and had never been much of an issue for me. I was pretty happy with my body. However, now that it was a simple matter of thought and an application of power, I noticed a handful of minor defects and blemishes that I had tuned out in the past. Minor imperfections that I hadn’t noticed before stood out to me, now that I had the means to do something about them. My new power also afforded me the opportunity to pick out some that I had never noticed before

I started at the top and worked my way down. I started with my hair, trying to thicken it slightly and add a few natural highlights. It took a few attempts to get what I was after but I soon succeeded. Thicker and with a more varied tone, my hair would also now naturally grow in that artfully messy style that could usually be achieved only with hair products. Next, I moved on to my eyes. While I had inherited my father’s green eyes, I had always loved the icy blue of my mother’s too. So I added a ring of blue into my eyes, giving me a mix of the two. Again it took a little trial and error but, I felt I was quickly getting the hang of my new power. Looking in the mirror, my new eyes stared back at me; black pupils ringed in a startling blue, that transitioned into the deep green of my irises.

I left the shape of my nose alone. The only change I made was to hide a few small blue veins that were faintly spider-webbed across the bridge. It was something I’d never noticed before but elected to ‘fix’ now that I had, and was in a position to do so.

I whitened my teeth a few shades, but still kept them looking natural, but left my lips as they were. Moving down to my arms and torso, I decided to bulk myself up slightly. It wasn’t a case of wanting to be stronger, because even as I was now, I could give Eddie Hall or Brian Shaw a run for their money without breaking a sweat. This was just me being a little bit vain. I don’t think I could be blamed for that. Given the opportunity, even the most body confident and self-assured person would probably make at least a few changes.

I watched myself in the mirror as my muscles began to expand slightly. My arms thickened with new muscle mass, my shoulders, chest, and back rippled as they grew into their new form, and my core tightened, my abs becoming more defined than I had ever dreamed they would ever be. Then, because you should never skip leg day, I bulked up my thighs and calves to even myself out.

Happy with my new musculature, I moved on to the next major feature: my height. Lauren hadn’t inherited our mother’s tall stature from our Viking ancestors, standing at just 5’4”. I had inherited some of that height even though I took mainly after my dad. At 5’10”, I was just slightly behind mom and hoped I still had another few inches to go. We had yet to see if the twins would imitate our older sisters’ shorter build, or inherit the height from the Nordic aspects of their heritage. As they were Mom’s doppelgangers in so many ways already, I expected they would grow up tall and slim despite their current shorter than average stature.

There was also the sped up growth my first wish making orgy caused to consider. I still didn’t know if that trend would continue and push the twins beyond whatever their natural height would have been, or merely accelerate their growth up to a point. It would be interesting to see what, if any, effect this second orgy had on them.

Though I wasn’t entirely unhappy with my height, I decided that I was due a growth spurt, and added a full 4 inches, bringing me to an even 6’2”, making me a few inches taller than my mother. At least now, if she wore high heels, neither of us would have to look up or down at the other anymore. Admittedly, instantly adding a full 4 inches may be a little much for one go, but once I saw myself I felt reluctant to change it. Maybe if I hung around with the twins, people would be too distracted by their bulging breasts to question my new height.

Finally, I came to the main event. I had resisted the temptation for this long, but it was time. Most men, if given the ability to make any change, would immediately give themselves a foot-long dick, as thick as a coke can, and with balls the size of tennis balls. Admittedly, I was tempted to see what a 20 inch dick would look like just for a laugh. Overall, I was pretty happy with the size of my dick. I read once that the average size of a fully erect penis is somewhere around 5.5 to 6 inches. So, I knew that my solid 8 inches was well above average. The girth of my cock was larger than most too. Even some pornstars couldn’t match the thickness of my cock without pumps and drugs.

Besides, I already filled each of my girls completely. More in some cases; I could only fit the full length of my cock into the twins by penetrating their cervix. Something that I’m still not sure should be possible. They weren’t the only ones whose bellies bulged when I went balls deep in them, particularly during anal. Emily, Pip, and to a lesser extent, Laura, were petite enough to show slight distension when I had my entire length stretching them out.

That being said, I still couldn’t resist making a few changes. I made my cock an inch longer, increasing it to an imposing 9 inches. I also made my balls slightly larger to match. There was no real reasoning behind that change other than I liked the way it looked and wanted to keep everything looking proportional. With the absurd amount of cum I produced, the size of my balls wasn’t really a factor in the size of my loads. I came so much that my balls would be the size of grapefruits if they were to match the sheer quantity of jizz they somehow produced. It would be interesting to actually measure how much cum now constituted a “normal” load for me.

I admired myself in the mirror, turning this way and that, flexing my new muscles and occasionally tweaking my appearance further. I noticed two things while I was sculpting my body. One, that I was much vainer than I previously thought.

And two, that the amount of energy required varied massively; depending not only on the nature of the change itself, but on how I caused that change to develop, and the speed of the change. As I considered and planned each change, my new power supplied me with the knowledge of how to go about causing said alteration. It appeared to be another one of the unexpected ways my powers manifested. This development was similar to the information bubbles that my ‘mastery of the mind’ power showed me. It was unexpected, but something I was grateful for.

For example, when I had seen one of the twins suckling on our mother’s breasts in their sleep, I had wondered about what it would be like if my mother started producing breast milk again. Thinking about it now, my new power supplied me with the knowledge of how to cause one of my girls to start lactating. Just a small tweak to a few hormones, which already occurred naturally in a woman’s body, was all that would be needed. A change like this was something that would require very little power to make.

However, any changes that created something completely new, like my new height and muscle mass, required a much more significant energy expenditure. I could have temporarily turned off the part of my body that regulated and controlled growth, increased the production of growth hormones, and increased my testosterone levels. Doing so would have let my body grow to the size I wanted on its own, it would just take a few months to get there. As I wanted immediate results, the changes consumed a great deal of energy. I would have to be mindful that the immediate, unnatural changes cost significantly more.

My musings were interrupted by a pair of soft, warm hands sliding over my shoulders, fingers tracing the lines of my new, larger muscles.

“You’re ... bigger. Last night obviously worked.”

I turned to face my mother. It was a slightly surreal moment looking down to meet my mother’s eyes rather than up into them. She smiled up at me.

“And in more ways than one,” she continued as her gaze moved from my eyes down to my groin and its new, longer appendage.

Her hands soon followed her gaze.

“I might have made a few alterations,” I admitted, while taking hold of her hips and pulling her closer before our lips met for a kiss.

“I’ve got a few I would like to give you too,” I said after our lips came apart.

“Really? What’s the matter? Is your old mom not hot enough for you any more?” She teased. She knew she was a stone cold fox. Maybe that’s where I got some of that vanity...

“Nothing too drastic, and I think you’ll love them. Trust me.”

I could sense the curiosity from my mother about what I had in mind, and she was excited to see my new power in action. However, I also felt slight trepidation which was perfectly understandable. How often does someone offer to magically alter your body?