It was that time of year again. Brilliant fall colors, crisp cool air and winds, sunshine and mist and rain, the annual All Hallow's Eve Ball, and every unmarried, unattached witch and warlock above the age of twenty would be subjected to the painful pangs of uncontrolled, lustful urges and the need to wed and breed. The ball was actually just a way for all the newly wed and pregnant to show off the excellent matches they'd made during the sex-crazed month of October, and for everyone else to be aware of who was left for next year.
Phoebe had given up on finding a match. She honestly didn't need or want one. And there were a great many warlocks and witches that felt the same. Matrimony was overrated, and it annoyed her that the compulsion had been bred into them. Mates for life. How boring. Besides, there wasn't a warlock or witch out there that could really offer her any real intellectual or physical stimulation. The best ones were already taken.
Unfortunately, her genetics wouldn't be denied.
Every month there was four days, for everyone, witch and warlock alike, when the need to mate peaked. Phoebe usually got by during that annoying four-day stretch with handy spells and the occasional wax dildo. Others she knew hit magic bars to find someone to help them work off some guiltless desire. She heard of a couple of people that actually started dating because of that, and once the wed bug came around, they already knew who they wanted. October was always the worst. It was an entire month of the incurable lust. She usually had to lock herself in her house or take constant diffuser potions in order to keep her pheromones and hormones in check up until the ball.
The only positive thing to succumbing to instinct was that once you were wed you had a consistent fuck buddy until you died. Once you found a mate, the mate was found. Chemistry never waned, but lust could still hit you for others besides your significant other. Unfortunately (or fortunately depending on the point of view), cheating never turned out well. For one, the sex was never good. Once mated, your partner was chemically the best sex you were ever going to have again. And two, the stink of another witch or warlock besides your spouse lingered until you had sex with said spouse again. There was no way to hide adultery. Everyone could smell it.
The moment September started, Phoebe began to anxiously dread October. This was her tenth October since becoming sexually aware and active. She hated having to work from home. Hated suffering through the constant, clawing need. But she hated even more the idea that her female parts could chain her to a moron for the rest of her days. After all, like her mother had said a million times: "Just because it's the best sex you'll ever have, doesn't mean it's any good."
But then Charlotte, Phoebe's newest coworker at Worthington Wizards & Associates handed her a pamphlet during their lunch break, after she had cursed October for the hundredth time.
"Wizard Welhung's Pleasurable Horrors?" Phoebe asked Charlotte incredulously. She couldn't look away from the explicit advertisement. "Don't want to get hitched, but still crave deep satisfaction? Orgasms guaranteed for the single warlock and witch? A multitude of spells and services at your disposal?" She stared at Charlotte. "What the hell is this?"
"It's simple, Phoebe. They specialize in giving you an avenue for your lust without the threat of getting locked into matrimony. The company has just started to get popular and info is only spread by word of mouth. Pamphlets, like this one, are given to satisfied customers." She gave Phoebe a black-lipped grin.
"So you're a customer?"
"For three years now. October is my favorite month. I get regular, amazing sex all month long and don't have to worry about that silly marriage business."
"There's a catch, isn't there?" Phoebe muttered suspiciously.
"It isn't cheap. I save up all year. I already put in my order. I'm going to have my usual delivered to my door in a week. And I'll be able to use the spell during that time of the month as well as in October," Charlotte said and crossed her long legs.
Phoebe couldn't help it. She had to ask. Her eyes narrowed. "What did you order?"
Charlotte laughed. "Summoning spell for a three-dick demon. Big, beefy, with plenty of stamina, a little on the wild side. His tail is a penis. It's awesome."
Phoebe felt her jaw grow a little slack. She fitted it back into place before she looked over the pamphlet with much more interest now. Spells offered included summoning spells for incubi, succubi, demons (of varying color, size and ... parts), and imps. Imps? Seriously? Spells were shipped to one's home address and could only be performed by the witch or warlock who purchased it.
It also advertised custom-built humanoids that one could design. A homunculus.
She blinked in surprise. She could even choose a brain! And ... even animal parts if one wanted. Whoa. There were two options for that service. Premade parts that a customer could choose or to send in specific requests and measurements. "Holy Hells." The example the pamphlet gave was for a four-armed, four-breasted, two-dick man woman thing ... with a cat tail. Whatever your fetish, Wd. Welhung can provide!
"Look it over and then put in your order as soon as you can," Charlotte said. "First come first served for certain things. There isn't an endless supply of demons with three penises, you know."
"Right. Of course." Phoebe's brow furrowed. "How does it work? How do you pay for it? This is your third year buying something? Wouldn't you have kept it if you bought it?"
"Well, Summoning is kind of a rental fee. You aren't allowed to own creatures from other planes, you know. So Pleasurable Horrors sends you the spell but it only works during the designated time period of the rental. After that, the spell ceases to work automatically. Even if you memorize it, when you try to use it either it fizzles or you summon something you don't want to summon." Charlotte wrinkled her nose.
Phoebe's dark eyebrows arched. Clearly the redheaded witch had tried it. "What about the homunculi?"
"Those are a lot more expensive, because you get to keep him if you want to. But they also give you the option of returning the product and getting a portion of your money back. Clearly not all of it, because, well, it's been used. They have a really fair return policy too if you're unsatisfied with the purchase." Charlotte smiled. "I'm telling you, Phoebe. You want to stay single and not have to resort to Animate Dildo spells, Pleasurable Horrors is the way to go."
"I'll think about it."
Several hours later, Phoebe cursed quietly at home as she dumped the potion for the Pleasurable Horrors Order spell-line. The back of the pamphlet had the ingredients for the potion that would connect her directly to the Ordering department. She'd mulled over it for hours after work, but finally gave up fighting it, mixed the components and cast the spell. The cauldron bubbled for thirty seconds before the color changed from green to blue.
"Thank you for potioning Wizard Welhung's Pleasurable Horrors," came a watery disembodied voice from the cauldron. "We are currently experiencing a high level of potion access. Please hold and your spell will be answered in the order it was received." The liquid inside the cauldron began to fade from blue to green and back again in a steady rhythm as a low, watery chant started. Phoebe groaned. She hated on-hold music.
Thirty minutes of the obnoxious music later, and partway through chapter eight of Toad Toxins and Remedies, a crisp voice came from the cauldron as the liquid turned bright blue and the vapors formed the head of a middle-aged witch with frizzy hair barely held back in a bun. "Thank you for holding! I apologize for the wait. I'm Bertie and I will be assisting you with your order today. How can I help you?"
Phoebe closed the book and removed her glasses, putting them on top of the volume before standing and approaching the cauldron. "Hello, Bertie. I have a few questions before I place my order, if that's okay."
"Of course, sugar. What can I help you with?"
Phoebe shifted. "So, uh, there's a 'please ask about user agreements and disclaimers when placing orders' note here at the bottom of the pamphlet. What's that about?"
"Oh, that's specifically for summoning spell purchases. Beings from other planes, especially the sexually based ones advertised, can be very volatile, chaotic, and potentially dangerous. We always recommend that those purchasing an incubus or a succubus take potions to prevent soul consumption. Also, the customer has to sign an agreement not to permanently damage or kill whatever creature has been summoned. The Protection of Summoned Entities Act requires that we have that agreement signed in all purchases of summoning spells."
Phoebe nodded. "Okay. Thank you, Bertie."
"Are you interested in an incubus, succubus, demon or a gang of imps?" Bertie's floating head asked sweetly.
Phoebe's red lips flattened and she shook her head. "No. Your answered confirmed my worry about purchasing a summoning spell. Actually, my next question was about what I'm really interested in. How does the custom-built homunculus thing work?"
"Oh, that's easy and oh, so much fun. Right here I take your order and we work together from top to bottom to make you the ideal sex slave, fuck buddy, or dominatrix of your wildest dreams!"
Phoebe felt her face heat up. "Right. So. Yeah. Let's do that."
"All righty! So, male or female?"
"Male, please, thank you."
"Preferred height? Give me a range."
"Between five-ten and six-four... ?"
"Ooooh, we like them tall don't we?"
Phoebe wanted to strangle Bertie's vaporous neck. But luckily, Bertie's face faded and four male faces appeared in the blue smoke. One had dark skin, no hair, clean shaven, wide nose, big lips. The next had a square jaw, an angular nose, light eyes and light skin with his hair swept back. The other had a medium skin tone, some light facial hair, long blond hair and pale eyes. The fourth head ... was just a floating circle with a question mark. "Why isn't there a fourth face?"
"Oh, that's the option for the specific requests and measurements. If you don't like these three facial templates, we can send you a scroll where you can place down all the details of what you want in your homunculus, down to the last detail. Once you send it back, we at Pleasurable Horrors will do our utmost to match your request." Bertie's face materialized beneath the four floating male heads. "Of course, it depends on availability of the body parts, but we do our best. If you are unsatisfied with the final product you may return him for a full refund as long as he hasn't been used. If you gave him a trial run before deciding he wasn't right, you will only get a sixty percent refund."
"You lose forty percent on that small bit of external anatomy?" Phoebe said, surprised.
"Sugar, you'd be surprised at how hard it is to find a decent penis."
Phoebe snorted. "Actually, I'm totally not." She pursed her lips and mulled over her options. The three heads weren't bad, but she had the whole month of September. She could special order... "If I do the specialized version will I have him by October 1st?"
"Oh, yeah. He will be delivered no later than September 29th with instructions included so you'll have him ready by October. No problem," Bertie said with a nod.
"Special orders on custom-built humanoids run between 25,000 gold credits and 50,000 gold credits depending on what you order," Bertie said cheerfully.
"Fifty thousand gold credits?" Phoebe practically screeched.
The incorporeal face winced. "Well, you do get to keep your perfect creation forever. And he comes with a lifetime guarantee. If the animation spell ceases to function for whatever reason, a new one will be sent to you immediately. Also, if any part gets broken or damaged, we will send a replacement." The heads above Bertie vanished and she gave Phoebe a shining smile.
That was pretty much everything Phoebe had in her hoard account, but ... she would never have to fear October again. Or idiot warlocks. Or marriage. She would actually be free of those ridiculous instincts because she would have something to satisfy her without demanding anything from her.
A lifetime investment with a lifetime guarantee.
Her mother would slap her if she didn't do it.
"All right, Bertie. Put me down for the special order of the custom-built homunculus and send me a scroll. All I have to do is send it back to you and then you'll give me a price and I'll pay you, right?"
"Exactly! If the price is too steep, I can even work with you on your order to modify it into something more affordable," Bertie said excitedly.
"Sure." Phoebe smirked. "You get paid commission, don't you, Bertie?"
"You bet your buttons I do, sugar!"
Phoebe made sure she had the delivery date off from work. She didn't want to miss her package and then have to explain herself and it to the busybodies of the Broom Postal Service. Forty thousand gold credits and Bertie's encouragement made Phoebe hopeful as she took the quill from the ogre delivering her package and signed for it. He gave her a well-meaning grunt and left the witch alone with her very large package.
She tore the box open like an excited little witch opening her first spellbook. Phoebe paused when the head was revealed beneath the fluffy moss peanuts. Square jaw, a little scruffy, longish dark hair, sweeping eyebrows. His skin had a hint of gray, but she really couldn't complain about that. She lifted the head and looked it over. Nice ears and a very nice mouth. She pulled open the eyelid to see his eye color. Bright, brilliant blue. Like ordered. Phoebe let out a little squeal of delight and began taking each part and placing it on the table she'd set up as per the instructions given to her by Bertie once her order had been shipped. The instructions! Phoebe rifled through the box until she found the pair of scrolls. She unrolled them and knifed them to the wall by the table.
Phoebe read over them quickly, mentally repeating the spell for attaching the limbs, before returning the box to collect the rest of her magnificent purchase. Wow. They really had gotten her a wide chest and shoulders with a six-pack abdomen. The latter hadn't been absolutely needed, just ... preferred if available. Large hands. Very nice. She tested one by placing it on her breast and shifting it around. She ignored her suddenly interested nipple. Perfect fit. They really did do a good job. "Damn." She lifted a thigh. Equestrian thighs. She wondered if they found them or grew them like this... ? She hadn't expected them to actually find that either. She'd asked for them specifically, but hadn't expected to actually get them.
"Oh my." She lifted the part containing the ass, hips, and ... penises. Phoebe felt her cheeks burn even as she licked her lips. She had asked for the two dicks on a whim ... because why the hell not? He was going to be her living sex toy. She might as well get something for optimum pleasure. Phoebe restrained the urge to touch them now. She hurried to place it in position with the rest of the body and then grabbed the remaining bits.
Once he was in position on the table, she tilted her head and gave him a once over. Six three, a decent amount of hair, and almost dead on for everything she wanted. Now she just had to hope that his brain was what she'd ordered. Phoebe grabbed her chalk, double checked the assembly spell and began the magic circles at the base and head of the table. Once complete, she grabbed her red candle mixed with crow's blood and cat tears and dripped the wax onto the edge of every seam. She placed the candle when she finished, took the chalk again and drew a magic circle on the floor by the head of the table. She stood in the center and tossed the chalk behind her. She placed her hands by the head and leaned forward so the ends of her black hair brushed her creature's cheeks. "Coniungo," she whispered. Her breath became a moving, red breeze and drifted over the body with every word that followed. "Omnibus partes. Eris totus." The red wind hovered over the body for a second and then shot into it. The magic circles glowed. Each limb and seam automatically attached itself and fused, and the circles faded.
Phoebe straightened and looked over the body. She let out an excited squeal and clapped her hands together. "Okay, okay, okay! Next part!" She hurried back to the wall and read over the next instructions for bringing her own personal man to life. She muttered the instructions under her breath as she read them and realized with a quiet curse, she didn't have all the supplies she needed for the spell. She'd have to do a quick run. "Damn, damn, DAMN! Electric eels? Really? Really? Why? Couldn't just be a jar of captured lightning, noooooo. Had to be the blasted eel!" She cursed again and reached for her hat, her purse and her broom. She headed to the door and then paused and looked over her shoulder the mass of naked man-flesh lying dormant on her table. "I'll be home soon. I promise. And then we'll finally have some fun."
Twenty-four hours later, Phoebe wasn't having fun. She was stuck on hold on the Pleasurable Horrors Customer Service spell-line, ready to bust a vein and curse that damn Wd. Welhung and all the swindlers that worked for him.
"Thank you for your patience! Your needs are important to us. You potion will be answered in the order it was receive—"
"This is Bertie! How can I help you?" Bertie chirped happily as her head materialized. "Oh! Phoebe! How are you, sugar... ? Uh oh. That's a scary face. What happened? I'll fix it immediately!"
Phoebe reeled in her frustrated rage and took a deep breath. "Bertie. I did everything the instructions told me to do." She pointed at the table behind her. "He's not awake, let alone ALIVE. Did I get sent faulty instructions? The spell is supposed to take ten hours. It's been over double that! I didn't pay a fortune for a corpse on a table. I can get that out of a cemetery."
"Hold on, hold on, sugar! I'm looking! I'm sorry, Phoebe, I'm going to have to put you on hold while I go through these spellbooks and potion the manager. I'll be right back."
Bertie's head vanished and the blue liquid and vapors faded to green then back to blue in a slow pulse. The annoying chanting music was back again. Phoebe cursed and began to go through her own spellbooks on how to give a person hives through a cauldron spell-line.
Bertie appeared before Phoebe could get very far. "Okay, okay, I found the problem. Did you read the first page of the three page instructions?"
Phoebe's brow furrowed. "There were only two pages. And the first one started with putting him together, so I'm pretty sure that was the first page."
"No, no, sugar, it wasn't. Check the box if you haven't tossed it yet. You might have missed it, or maybe they forgot to send with the other two pages. Our scriveners are slacking lately. I think they're constantly high on elf-grass." Bertie sighed and her head seemed to be looking over something her invisible hands held. "Okay, so yes, the instructions on putting him together are on the second page. The first page states that because Wd. Welhung's Pleasurable Horrors designs each animation spell individually, activation will occur ... in the order it was cast. So the warlocks and witches in the activation department are systematically going through each animation spell sent through the cauldrons in the order they were received."
Phoebe stared at Bertie for a long, tense moment. She pointed back at the lump of motionless man on the table. "So I have to wait until you receive the spell I cast before he's activated... ? Why can't I just activate him?" she said through gritted teeth.
"I'm sorry, Phoebe. It's the system we set up because of the summoning spells. Doing it this way keeps witches and warlocks from stealing summons and doing something stupid like accidentally letting a slew of demons and imps run rampaging over the countryside fucking everything that breathes," Bertie said one rush of breath. She sucked in a deep one through her nose, nostrils flaring. "Since summons are our most popular commodity, we just attached the custom-built homunculi to the already working and established system. I can't do anything about it." Bertie bit her bottom lip. "All I can do is talk to the activation department and see if they could move you up the list as quickly as possible. I'm so sorry."
Phoebe forced herself to take a deep breath. "Okay. All right. Nothing I can do about it. I guess I'll just have to wait." She rolled her eyes. "Can I get him off my table and stick him in a closet for now? He takes up a lot of space and I can't have anyone over with him on my dining table."
Bertie winced. "No ... He has to be on the table. He needs to be elevated, close to the cauldron, lying prone with the magic circles beneath his head and the small of his back for the activation of the spell to work. I'm so sorry for the inconvenience, Phoebe." Bertie's bottom lip trembled. "Do you want to dismantle him and send him back... ?"
Phoebe sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "No. I guess I can wait a little longer. I got him early even with all the details. And he's nearly perfect. There's still time before October. But I swear, if the first rolls around and he's still ... unanimated, I'll never recommend Pleasurable Horrors to anyone, I will place a massive complaint, I will take him apart, and send him back and demand my money. I refuse to be out forty grand and on October 1st have to use a damn dildo until I can make a stock pile of diffuser potions!"
Phoebe found herself quickly tortured by the inanimate man beast on her table. She couldn't take her meals there. She had to eat in the kitchen or parlor. She couldn't work on any of her spells in the comfort of her spell room because he distracted her. Occasionally she would poke his arm, his nose, his penises, hoping that he would suddenly spring to life, sweep her off her feet, carry her to bed and fuck her all night.
Days rolled by and he didn't awaken. Thank goodness September's week of torture had come and gone before he even arrived at her doorstep. But the end of September loomed, and October drew ever closer. She could already feel her body preparing itself for the raging, consuming lust. Her dreams were full of sex. Her inner thighs were almost constantly wet from her body overproducing vagina juices in anticipation of the month long fuck fest. She wanted to masturbate, but every time she saw the gorgeous, lifeless body on her table, she refused. She didn't pay forty thousand gold credits to masturbate. She would get her money's worth or she would get her money back.
She didn't want to make the diffuser potions, but she came to the sad realization that she would probably have to send the monster man back and spent another October suffering and locked up. Or she could just give up and find some stupid, sexy warlock to fuck and marry, or some brilliant, useless wizard to fuck and marry, and settle for the best, worst sex of her life. Forever. The thought made her shiver. She tried to reassure herself. Maybe she would actually find a brilliant, sexy wizard or warlock who was actually great in bed, and she'd be set! Unlikely. The symptoms of the pheromone madness made it extremely difficult for one to actually choose well. The first man with matching chemistry to her would be the one she'd be stuck with—personality, intelligence and skill notwithstanding.
Yeah, her wax dildo still sounded like a better option.
So as October crept relentlessly toward Phoebe began stockpiling the diffuser potions she would need for the month so she could get through it without turning into a lust fiend clawing at her doors. She had noticed that the lust got worse with age. When she'd been twenty-three the need hadn't been as bad as it had when she was twenty-six. And last year, at twenty-nine, her diffuser intake had doubled from the year before. And now, at thirty ... Hell, October hadn't hit yet and she was already near to going mad.
Phoebe left some diffuser potion slow cooking in the cauldron, bubbling into its undiluted syrupy gray color reeking of white sage, clover honey and fish. She showered quickly, ignoring the pulsing ache between her legs and her hard nipples, and tried to not imagine hot, hard shower sex. She tugged on her robe once she was mostly dry and hurried to the cauldron. She really couldn't hold off on taking a diffuser potion much longer. If it was mostly ready, she'd take a ladle full mix it with water and pour herself a glass of the stuff. She pulled on her cauldron mitts and placed her hands on the sides of it and leaned forward to take a deep breath of the scent. If she could smell the hint of rosemary, it was ready enough have some safely.
A hand moved over her ass.
Phoebe froze. She completely forgot about the stupid potion. The large hand was joined by another equally large hand and her robe was systematically being tugged up. The dampness between her legs suddenly intensified. Her abdomen clenched. "Um..."
"I think you've been waiting for me," came a gravelly, darkly raspy voice from behind her before a pair of fingers slid into her hot center. A thumb slipped over her swollen, wet clit. Phoebe's mittened hands curled over the edge of the cauldron as she gasped. She was too stunned to react. "You're more than ready," the voice whispered as the fingers stroked her tight insides. "And you're awfully tight. You need a good, hard dicking, I think."
"Ah ... Um..." Phoebe started to turn her head, but the hand still on her bare ass left it to grab onto her hair and pull it back toward him. "Aaah! What the hell—"
The fingers slipped away. The loss left her wordlessly devastated for a second. His hand moved her hip. Her insides clenched with longing. But before Phoebe could gather her thoughts again, a thick, rigid cock probed the entrance of her body and pushed relentlessly into her. A strangled cry escaped her throat as her legs parted to make more room. The huge dick didn't stop. The man's hips rocked a little, sending shocks of pleasure coursing up her spine and through the rest of her body. Her thighs trembled, and as the dick sank deeper into her, Phoebe felt the rub of a second cock against her vulnerable clit. Her eyes shot open.
"Y-you're... !" Phoebe began but then he pushed himself the rest of the way and tugged her hair back toward him, making her neck and back arch. She let out a cry of ecstasy as he rocked his deep-seated cock inside her. Her insides clenched around the thickness. She felt so stretched that she couldn't feel anything but him.
"Oh, yes..." came the deep, graveled voice. "Tight and hot." His legs moved forward and parted, spreading her legs wider apart. Phoebe let out another cry and the man's hips retreated and then thrust back into her. "Fuck yeah," he hissed before beginning a hard-paced rhythm.
Phoebe couldn't help but scream. He pounded into her with determined ferocity, his other dick rubbed against her clit, his hand slid up from her hip to pull open the robe and grasp one of her breasts in the large hands designed to fit perfectly to the heavy globes. After being so hungry and desperate for so long, having this first, real fuck in forever ... She couldn't hold back. He was so thick and relentless as he thrust harder and faster into her vulnerable flesh that she came within two minutes of his pummeling, shrieking as her body clamped down and convulsed around him.
But that didn't stop him. He released a satisfied laugh and pulled free of her quivering, pulsing body to shift his hips. Phoebe's eyes widened when she felt the cock, lubricated from her body, pressing into her tiny asshole while the other steeled cock pushed into her swollen, trembling vagina. A strangled cry escaped the back of her throat as he rolled her nipple between his fingers and shoved both of his dicks deep inside her body. He rolled his hips, pulling another squeaky cry from her lips, until he had penetrated her so completely she could feel his heavy testicles between her wet inner thighs. Phoebe didn't even notice her tongue half hanging out as she panted.
"Now you're ready for a real fucking," he said. He leaned forward, shifting his dicks inside her and then began to thrust. Hard, fast, and without mercy. Phoebe released another strangled shriek and then her mind went numb to anything but the maddening pleasure. He pounded both cocks into her shaking ass and vagina and began to move faster and faster with every moan and cry he dragged out of her lips. She moved with him, thrusting her hips and ass back against him, panting desperately in need for more. Her vision became blurry. All she needed or wanted was the man fucking her into oblivion. She came again, hips jerking as she convulsed, insides clamping down like vises on the cocks inside her body. She heard him grunt, but he didn't stop. He continued relentlessly, like a machine, thrusting against her orgasm, pushing her past it and forcing her higher, making her thrash against him. He tightened his grip on her hair and pulled her head back toward him. He squeezed her breast. He bit down on her shoulder and made his thrusts harder and faster.
Phoebe screamed her ecstasy until her voice was hoarse.
She came three more times before she heard his breath quicken, felt his thrusts get jerkier and harder and faster. She panted as his impending climax made her sixth claw through her. Pants became cries; he pummeled harder; a hoarse scream escaped as the world went white with rapture; he thrust into her orgasm a few more times before his hands released her breast and hair, grabbed her hips and slammed her back against him. Phoebe heard his rough shout of ecstasy and felt him orgasm, shake and thrust, as he spilled an overflowing amount of cum into her hungry orifices.
They shook together for a long minute, before his arms wrapped around her to pull her away from the cauldron. His cocks slid out of her body as he straightened her and turned her around to face him. Phoebe stared up in dizzying pleasure at the man who had lied on her table for almost two weeks. His brilliant blue gaze seemed to stab right through her. "Sorry to keep you waiting," he said, his voice a hoarse rumble.
Phoebe didn't have enough brain for words.
She just watched him glance at the cauldron, then at her shelves. He grabbed a jar of pickled snake eggs. She gazed at him, stunned, as he smiled down at her. "You're not going to need that diffuser, Phoebe," he whispered, and then dumped the whole thing into the cauldron, destroying her potion and turning the gray syrup to a bright fuchsia frosting-like mixture. A large bubble formed and then popped releasing only the heavy scent of rosemary and burnt sugar.
He'd turned her diffuser potion into a potent sex draught.
The piercing blue eyes found hers again. He lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bedroom.
Phoebe realized with growing dread that they'd put a wizard's brain into her homunculus' head.
Phoebe laid sprawled on her bed, skin damp with sweat, insides sore and pulsing, thighs aching, nipples red and bordering on bruised. She had no idea what day it was. Maybe it was still Saturday. Or maybe it was Sunday already. Since her monster man had awakened they hadn't stopped having sex. In the shower, in the kitchen, in the parlor, in the closet, on the table, under it, against the wall. Every position imaginable. The man was designed to have endless stamina and to recover from his orgasms quickly. She was positive he had mixed some of the sex draught into their food to make them even hornier. And to decrease her soreness. She shouldn't be able to move right now.
But she still could. And so could he. Said 'he' currently meandered his naked ass around her kitchen making them lunch. Or breakfast. She wasn't sure. Light streamed through her old curtains.
That had been one thing she had ordered with the brain. A man who could cook. She needed him to be able to cook. She sure couldn't. Mix a potion, no problem. Make a pot roast? She'd burn down her house.
So cook he could. And mix potions. He knew spells. Knew what herbs to use. For cooking and spells. Could tell spells by their appearance and scent. When she'd ordered a "fuck buddy" brain from Pleasurable Horrors that was intelligent enough to carry on a decent conversation with her, she had expected a lot of things. But never a wizard's brain.
Aside from dangerous, it put her in some risk.
A wizard brain contained a wizard personality with a wizard soul.
And souls were those annoying chemistry inducing agents that flared up in October.
There was no doubt about it. Those blue eyes were sharply intelligent. He knew too much about spells. They'd already had an argument about what kind of basil worked best with newt stew. Before he'd stuffed one of his cocks down her throat.
Phoebe licked her lips. A very tasty cock too. She rolled her eyes and groaned. She pressed her sticky thighs together to hold back the sudden ache that managed to override even her soreness. She had to contact Bertie again. Find out how they could mess up so much and build her a man with a wizard brain in his head.
And hope to every holy everlasting hell that it wasn't too late.
"Soup will be ready in ten." Phoebe's gaze shifted to the tall, delicious, naked form at her doorway, his penises erect and eager. He strode toward her. He took one of her legs and placed it on his shoulder as he bent toward her. Phoebe didn't hesitate. She lifted her hips as both cocks fitted and penetrated her. A hoarse moan escaped her lips as she arched. "What do you think?" he rasped. "Think I can give you three orgasms in ten minutes?" He gripped onto the headboard and shoved his hips forward until they were pressed against hers. Phoebe panted and clung to him. Her nails dug into the tight muscles of his shoulders. "I'll take that as a yes," he murmured as he lowered his head to one of her erect nipples and lapped it hungrily with his tongue just as he began to thrust heavily into her.
Yes was the only word Phoebe could scream.
"Bertie, what did you do?" Phoebe hissed quietly at the floating head. She paced around the cauldron, hands twisting. "What did your designers do? They put a wizard's brain in Shane's head! A wizard brain!"
"That's not possible, sugar. It can't be a wizard brain. Wizard and witch brains are specifically off-limits unless they are requested," Bertie said soothingly.
Phoebe froze. She spun on her heels and glared. " ... Specifically requested? You mean you guys actually have them in stock?"
"Well, we rarely get homunculus orders. They're very expensive and most people, even if they don't want to get married one day, want to get married eventually. So flings with sexy demons are very popular. No long term commitment after all and one is free to get married one day. Homunculi are usually a permanent household item. And ours are designed for sex. Those who purchase them usually intend to be single for the duration of their lives so a living sex toy is very appealing. But some ... just want to build the perfect mate, so they get a brain they can ... marry. Since it's a taboo concept we've only had a handful of people who have actually purchased a soul sustained brain. You did not purchase one, sugar. They have to be specifically asked for. I'm sure you didn't receive one. They cost extra," Bertie said.
"Then clearly there was a mix up somewhere, because he knows stuff only a wizard should know," Phoebe said through gritted teeth.
"Where is he now? I'm surprised you're not busy having amazing sex."
"He's out in the yard. He ... likes cutting wood for the fireplace, cauldron and oven. He says he enjoys the feel and weight of the axe in his hands."
"That doesn't sound very wizardly."
"He knew how to turn my diffuser into a sex draught! We argued over components for a spell I had to finish doing for work! And then halfway through the argument he kissed me, tore off my clothes and fucked me until I passed out! I haven't gotten anything done all weekend! Which would normally be awesome except for the fact that I shouldn't be arguing about the mechanics of spell design with him, and then worst of all realizing he was right! Making him go out to do some damn yard work was the only way I could get him off of me long enough to actually wrap up assignments!"
" ... Is he naked?"
"I'll look into it. You did specifically ask for a brain that was at least at your level of intelligence so you could have invigorating conversations." Bertie's crooked teeth appeared with a bright smirk. "Sounds like invigorating conversations to me."
Phoebe sighed. "Just ... find out. I don't want to be married to a homunculus. I'll return him if I have to."
"All right, but just think, Phoebe: married or not, wizard brain or not, he was designed for you. Do you really want to send him back, sugar?"
Phoebe waved Bertie off. "Your commission is at stake, I know that. I'll complain if they take it from you okay? Just find out if the chemistry between me and my homunculus is artificial the way it should be or terrifyingly real."
"I will. I'll let you know as soon as I do and hopefully allay your fears."
"Thank you, Bertie."
"Of course, Phoebe."
The blue, vaporous head of the other woman vanished and the cauldron's liquid turned green again. Phoebe rubbed her temples, and suddenly felt eyes on her back. And then her ass. She mentally cursed. She looked over her shoulder to see the recently dubbed Shane standing at the doorway, the usual smile on his lips chased away.
Her heart wrenched painfully. Hell and damnation. How much had he heard... ?
He'd pulled his hair back into a ponytail to work outside. He wore a makeshift pair of pants she'd haphazardly put together for him so he wasn't buck naked outside. The weather wasn't exactly warm anymore after all. The fact that she worried about him worried her. And holy hell, he looked delicious. Naked chest, the scars at his joints from when she'd put him together, pants barely clinging to his hips. He walked toward her and she felt her lips dry, she licked them as her heart pounded.
Phoebe could feel her suddenly rapid pulse at the base of her throat as he stopped before her and lifted his hand to touch her face.
"You don't want me?" his devastatingly sexy rough voice queried with a hint of hurt that stabbed straight into her chest.