“Who will it be tonight dear? Jennifer Lawrence, blond and busty? How about Anna Kendrick, a cute, petite brunette? Maybe Beyoncé; black, bold, and beautiful?” Her eyes glinted, “Perhaps a silky eyed Cardiaagne?”

“I don’t know, I haven’t thought about it yet, give me some time, we don’t go to bed for a while.”

“Okay, but I have to have time to prepare, I wouldn’t want to disappoint you.”

“Believe me, you never disappoint.” Twenty minutes later, “How about Marilyn Monroe, you know, the old-time movie queen who seduced a President?”

“I don’t know if I can conjure her essence, she’s been on the other side a long time.”

“It’s okay if you can’t, Ana de Armas, she was Marilyn Monroe in the movie, I would fuck her.”

“She’s not blonde.”

“She is in the movie.”

“I’ll try dear, go to bed, maybe I’ll surprise you this time, my choice.”

As he headed for his bedtime shower, he replied, “Yeah, that can be a lot of fun too.” The 30th-cycle warlock was learning his craft, practicing his nascent skills of spellbinding, conjuring, as well as meta and polymorphing. He was also learning about the female side of covens; the crafts of witches, imps, and fairies. As he went to get ready for bed, he was anticipating what or who she might be when she joined him. For the 16 cycles he had been in the Age of Awareness she had created endless roles or beings in their mating rituals. If she wanted to be a human woman tonight, that was fine with him. Women were by far his favorite nighttime playmates. He was always ready to become a man for her, and she liked being a woman for him. He enjoyed her as a Cardiaagne too but he was never sure which of her three cunts would be hot enough to fuck. He was beginning to understand how he could control the size and shape of his fleshly extension to please her various appearances. As the phases passed, the nighttime lessons became less instructive, less experimental, and more pleasure-filled.

After his shower he lay with eagerness teasing his libido, he heard the shuffle of soft feet, she wasn’t wearing slippers. Her voice was soft and quiet, “Close your eyes, sweetheart, you can’t see until I tell you to open them. Are they closed?”

“Yeah, come on,” his heart began to thud, pumping warmed energy to his cock.

He heard the door click shut and three quiet steps to the bed, “Okay,” she breathed softly. He opened his eyes to take in the vision of a hot, sexually inspiring, Jessica Rabbit. One blue eye looked down on him, her face was enclosed by long flowing locks of lush, deep red hair that swooped over the other eye, her 46 DDD bust was held in place by a tight, glittering red dress that provided only a whisper of cover for her gorgeous body.

Great Wofford in Warlock Niatia, did she have tits! The split of the ankle-length skirt started at the swell of her hip and peeled back to reveal an impossibly long shapely leg. As he took in the sight of his next conquest his prick grew in proportion to the strength of the sexual messages she was sending. He willed his erection to be as impossibly long as her leg.

He lay flat on his back, his maleness stood tall and straight, aimed at the enchanted symbols frescoed on the ceiling. Jessica Rabbit stood on the bed, her feet to each side of his hips, she pulled the split skirt wide enough to expose her body, she had no vagina drawn at the junction of her legs, but that did not matter, she was a cartoon, a hole magically appeared, slightly veiled by dark red hair. She bent her knees then, while smiling into his eyes, lowered herself on his member until the head of it formed a lump in her throat. When she had it full length in her, from crotch to throat, she began to roll her hips, fucking him, watching him enjoy her. This was a new sensation: the knob of his erection caressing her throat from below, not from over her tongue. Taking him like that, with the full length of her body, was erotic as inhaling Nepha, she reveled in the feel of him sliding so deep in her. This was the first time she had done Jessica Rabbit with this young Warlock, and she relished the feel of his hard member thrumming inside her.

She had almost forgotten that an animated character could do anything, be elastic and pliable, be brittle and break, freeze or melt, then return to ‘normal.’ As she performed cartoon magic on him, he lay and stared at her in awe. He’d never seen her like this and was absorbing all the excitement and lust she radiated as she fucked him, “Take off the dress,” he commanded.

“I’m animated, it’s painted on.”

He ran a hand up the inside of her long bare leg, “That’s okay, I’ll see you next time.”

She smiled down at him and rocked her hips, “What makes you think there will be a next time?” He rolled his ass, humped off the bed, driving into her more, the head of his long appendage blocked off any more words while they fucked, her one blue eye shined bright with lust. She lifted off him then went her back, raised her knees, and invited even more intimacy. He flipped to his stomach and put his mouth over the red material of her dress at the junction of her thighs. He licked it wet then moved down to put his head under the skirt. It was tight, drawn to make her shape sexier so he couldn’t put his head under it.

Frustrated because he wanted to consume her sex with his mouth, he ran through a mental inventory of spells and invoked one that made things grow. He envisioned his tongue as a 32-inch spear, it grew until he could stab her clit. She wore no panties; cartoons didn’t need them unless they were drawn that way. He dipped the arrowed head of his tongue into Jessica Rabbit and lapped her as she swelled with lust. He watched as her body inflated to bursting. Pieces of Jessica flew in all directions, splatting against the walls, one of her tits stuck on the ceiling then slowly pulled off and fell over his head. He sat up on the bed and watched as the pieces of the cartoon woman slowly came together until she was whole. She put her fingers on his 32-inch tongue and whispered a short spell, it shrank back to his mouth; when done she sighed, “Damn, that was fun.”