Spellbook: A Gender Swap Story

Jack grinned as he put the Chevy into park. Lucy slapped his shoulder, her hand smacking against the leather of his jacket. He turned off the headlights, and the grey paneling and hollow windows of the house vanished into darkness. His grin faltered for a moment as the dark house loomed over them. “Look in the glove box, there’s a flashlight.”

“Jack, I don’t want to go in there,” Lucy pleaded, trying to sound more impatient than afraid.

“Well, do you want to sit in the dark? Get the flashlight, already!” Jack also tried to sound more impatient than afraid. The idea of coming to the Holt house seemed like a fun gag when they were on the road, his arm wrapped around Lucy, and the headlights spilling white light out into the familiar countryside. But now, Jack had the strangest sensation that something was watching him. He didn’t know what, but he knew from where. “What are you, a scaredy-cat?”

Lucy pursed her lips and opened up the glove box. Two big flashlights rolled out followed by a rush of papers and other small gadgets. Once she managed to get it all back in, Jack reached over and took one of the lights from her lap. Her cheeks flushed in the darkness as his hand first grabbed at her upper thigh. He didn’t jerk back or hesitate as he prodded around. They’d fooled around a little before, but not gone all the way yet, no matter how much Lucy fantasized about it. She picked up the remaining flashlight and flipped its switch, but nothing happened. Jack’s turned on and flooded the car with yellow illumination. “Jack, this one doesn’t work. The batteries must be dead. You can’t think I’m going up there without a flashlight.”

“Come on, Lucy, you’ll be fine. It’s just an old empty house. Stick close to me, we’ll go in and have a look around.” His car door opened with a thunk and the only light for a half mile slipped out of the cab with him. He turned the light on Holt House, the weak beam almost devoured by the shadows of the looming structure. Lucy scrambled out and slammed the car door with a huff. “Hey, watch it. Don’t sulk, this is going to be fun. Nothing in there to hurt you and a little fright gets the blood going, right?”

“Fine, but if you run off and leave me or hide in a closet to scare me, I’m never speaking to you again,” she jutted out her lip to emphasize her point.

“Of course not, baby. Don’t even threaten me like that,” he leaned in and pushed his lips against hers. The kiss was wet and clumsy, but filled both of them with a thrill. He took her by the hand. “Let’s go.”

They walked up the leaf covered path toward the two story house. Lucy clutched Jack’s arm tightly as the beam lit their path. When they reached the stairs leading up to the front door, they jerked to a stop. The light reflected dully back from a silver chain looped through the empty doorknob and around the door frame itself. Lucy’s heart lifted. The door was chained shut. They would have to go back to the car and drive into town. They could stop and get a soda before heading over to Jack’s new place. Her mother wouldn’t like it, but her mother didn’t have to know, nor did she have a right to know. Lucy was a grown woman and free to do what she liked with the only penalty being a long lecture along the lines of “while you’re living in my house you’ll obey my rules.” As quickly as the exit came, it vanished. The door was chained, but not locked.

“Seems like they would lock it,” Jack pondered as he slipped away from her to unwrap the chain. “Guess they just leave it here to keep the wind from moving the door.” He unfurled the loops of the chain. It rattled, disturbing the otherwise still night. Again, Jack felt eyes looking at him that didn’t belong to Lucy. He could tell she was frightened, but doubted she felt the same sense of being watched. With nothing else to do with the chain, he let it clatter to the ground beside the door, fully intending to return it as they left. He pushed the door, and it creaked open two feet until the bottom started to drag against the floor. Jack slipped through the opening and pulled Lucy through behind him.

They both held their breath. Neither intended to, but the mood in the house differed from anything they’d felt before. Neither knew how to describe, but the feeling was clear enough. A presence lingered within the walls. A smell of rotted wood and cloth clotted the air. Dust swirled wherever the beam of light moved. They each expected some monster to lunge out of the shadows, but they saw only empty rooms with the occasional bit of half rotted furniture. They moved slowly through the entryway and into a room on the right. It was littered with empty beer cans and leaves, which had drifted in through a broken window, had been raked off to one side Jack’s stomach dropped as he realized that an old ghost wasn’t the only danger in such a house. Some half crazed old hobo with a hatchet might be waiting around the corner, ready to chop off the heads of the two kids dumb enough to invade his hideout. He noticed a bit of pipe lying near where the indention of a radiator remained on the wall. Lucy clutched his hand tightly as he picked it up, but neither of them spoke of its need.

“Where did they find them?”

“Upstairs.”

Esmeralda Holt married Josiah Nelson on Christmas morning of 1900. She kept her name, quite uncommon at the time, but mostly unnoticed in the community. Esmeralda’s father, Matthew Holt, had been incredibly rich and determined to maintain his family’s power. He had three daughters, Esmeralda, June, and Tabitha. When it came time for Esmeralda to marry, he arranged for the wedding to Josiah Nelson. The Nelsons had many sons, and Josiah was not much of a prospect. He was willing to change his name to marry into the Holt fortune. Esmeralda objected, but her father insisted. Matthew ordered the construction of a new house for the married couple, which Jack and Lucy would carefully ascend the stairs of sixty years later. Upon the completion of the house, Matthew died in a matter of days from an unexplained fever.

With her father dead, Esmeralda became the young matriarch of the family. Though she had not cared much for Josiah at first, she’d grown fond of him for reasons no one outside of Holt house understood. Esmeralda summoned her sisters to live with her, expanding the house somewhat to accommodate them. At first, nothing changed. Esmeralda and her sisters were not seen much, and Josiah came to town once or twice a week. Deliveries were taken regularly at the house. The women’s lack of presence in social circles struck the other townspeople as unusual, but the Holt’s had always been strange people. By 1905, Josiah stopped coming to town. None of the Holts were seen at all. A pair of servants, a husband and a wife, took up Josiah’s duties and oversaw the house. When people called to check on the women, the servants sent them away claiming their mistresses to be in good health and appreciative of the inquiry.

In August of 1907, the female servant came screaming into town on a Tuesday morning. Once the townspeople calmed her down, she made a mad claim. She said that the Holt sisters were witches and sexual deviants. She said they used magic to transform into different people and commit lustful sins. She said they’d snared her husband and now he was going to be damned to hell. The local preacher, a sensible, modern man of the times, assured everyone that it was nonsense and the delusions of a frightened girl. As the leaders of the town walked up to the Holt house, they were convinced that the servant woman’s husband had cheated on her with one of the Holt women. They all vocally announced that such a matter was no business of theirs, but needed to sort it out nonetheless. Five years of curiosity surrounded the Holts and no one was going to pass up an opportunity to finally see what had been going on in Holt house.

The accounts of what happened next vary. When they arrived, the door was open. Not an uncommon sight in the August heat for any house in town except the Holt house. Noises came from within. A few of the men thought it best not to meddle with such matters at that point and decided to wait outside, but the rest barged in much like Jack. They heard moaning upstairs and morbid fascination drove them onwards. Some expected to find the servant man lying with Tabitha, the youngest. The more imaginative in the bunch had pictured the servant pinned beneath the two spinster sisters as they used him to ravish themselves, like some scene out of a penny novel kept tucked under a false floorboard. Both thoughts were correct though short of the full scene. The moaning came from the room at the end of the hall. They knocked before opening the door, but no one responded, the moaning only grew louder. Resolved to their puritanical sensibilities, the men, standing in a crowd of six, opened the door.

Naked, writhing bodies filled their view. On a bed, Esmeralda rode atop a man no one recognized, squeezing her breasts as the man pulled and pushed at her ass. To the left, a woman was bent over a chair with another man behind her, thrusting roughly over and over, and yet another in front of her shoving his cock into her mouth. In the center of the room, a symbol none recognized had been carved into the floor. At its center was a black book with red lettering scrawled on its pages and gold gilding on the spine. This was the scene as the men agreed to describe it. In private, they knew they’d seen something different. Esmeralda did not sit atop a man, but a monster. They believed it to be a demonic transformation of poor Josiah, turned into a half beast for the witch’s pleasure. He had black eyes like that of a goat and a pelt of grey to match. The woman being fucked between two men was human at least, but each of them recognized her immediately. She was the servant man. Transformed somehow into a woman. The two men fucking her were not men at all, but June and Tabitha. They retained their feminine forms with naked breasts and curved hips, but from the crest of their lower lips emerged thick cocks that put the townsmen to shame. Abominations and devil worship.

The men separated the rutting creatures and covered them. Word spread quickly in the town and driven by the shrieks of the servant’s wife, madness took hold. The five of them were brought into town and locked in the basement of the church, an effort to contain their corruption. The symbol resisted most of the townsmen’s efforts to destroy it, but finally succumbed to the floorboards themselves being ripped up. The boards would serve as kindling for the horrific fire to come. The book would not be touched by anyone but the pastor, and only then after he’d prayed extensively. It came to the fire as well. After some short demands to the witches that the half man be returned to Josiah, it was decided to put him to death since the townspeople believed him to be suffering through a curse rather than a willing participant. Here again, the stories diverge.

In the told tale, Josiah died mercifully from a gunshot to the head. His body was blessed and laid atop they pyre. The four witches, the transformed servant believed to be an accomplice, were bound to stakes. The pastor led the town in prayer, and the fire was lit. The Black Book was cast into the flames as they licked at the women’s feet. The town shut their eyes to the horror of necessity and prayed for the souls of the five victims of the devil’s work.

In the other tale, the one taken to the grave of every man and woman present, the witches waited to be tied up when Josiah was brought forward for his merciful end. A large crowd had gathered by then in the waning morning as the sun hid behind dark clouds. The women among the crowd fixed their eyes on the manhood of the creature about to be put to death. The men could not look away from the salacious beauty of the witches. An insidious fire crept through the spectators causing them to tug at their clothes and rub at their breasts. It broke over them like a river breaking through its dam. Women dropped to their knees and pulled up their skirts, offering their naked flesh to any man brave enough to take them. The men did not reject the offer. They pulled out their cocks and shoved them happily in the first wet hole they could find. Within minutes, the crowd devolved into a writhing orgy. The witches slipped free of their bonds and joined in, completing the ritual they had begun at Holt house. When all reached their maddened completion, the orgy ended.

The Holt sisters and Josiah vanished. The servant man was back to himself, but left town before the next day with his wife in tow. The townspeople dressed themselves and went back to their homes to pray. The pastor, after pulling out of his neighbor’s wife, took the Black Book and cast it into the built pyre before setting the whole thing ablaze. It did burn, sending black smoke that drifted up to Holt house and beyond. The fire burned through the rest of the day and through the night. With it burned the town’s innocence and by morning, each citizen had collectively decided on the other story. They worried about the swollen stomachs of the women in the months to come, secretly afraid that some demon children would be born.

As far as they knew, none were. The Holt sisters were not seen again. The house remained. First, it was ignored, no one wanting to admit that either the owners had been killed by a mob or vanished into hell. Paperwork shuffled over the years. It was sold twice, first in 1925 to an out of towner who thought to resell it but wound up losing money on its return sale to the town. Then again in 1947 to a veteran who had intentions of restoring it. He modernized it to a degree, but after six months he and his young wife decided to move. The town elders knew why. It was returned to the town’s stewardship once more, but no one wanted to pay to have it torn down. Particularly when the oldest citizens still spoke of the house with wonder and fear. Instead it was boarded up and left to rot.

Sometimes children would venture inside on a dare. Other times, the sheriff would investigate and run out any vagabonds who had laid up inside. The legend of the Holt sisters being witches passed on in scraps, embellished again and again until it wound up closer to true than it had started. Jack and Lucy believed that the witches had been found summoning the devil, but they’d tried and killed themselves in the process. On the whole, whatever presence remained in the house stayed quiet, content to let the memories of the Holt sisters dissolve into history. Until Jack’s hand touched the handle of the master bedroom door.

Each step in the upper hallway let out a wailing creak from the floorboards. Lucy kept her eyes on the many holes in the walls, expecting to see rats skittering out of sight at the last second. Fear kept a cold grip on both of them, pulling them closer to the closed door. They whispered about the old stories of witches as they climbed the stairs. Jack still had the feeling of something just out of sight, watching and waiting. He didn’t know how he understood it, but he knew whatever it was had been waiting a long time. The bedroom door had not aged as much as the rest of the house. Jack figured it had been replaced during an attempted renovation. His hand pushed against the same wood that the townsmen had opened years before.

The bedroom looked no different than the rest of the battered and broken home. A shattered bed frame sat against one wall. Splinters of wood and glass littered the floor. Lucy wrinkled her nose at the scene as the lamplight scanned over it. It looks staged. The idea occurred to her when she realized nothing in the room had dust on it. The rest of the house had almost a half inch of dust on every surface, save where vandals had knocked it away, but not the bedroom. Jack let go of her hand and moved forward alone. The light shone down on the floorboards in the center of the room, illuminating an old threadbare rug. Lucy’s fear rose up in her throat and almost choked her protests, “Come on, we’ve seen it, can’t we go now?”

Jack bent down and grabbed the edge of the old rug. He pulled. The rough side scraped against the floorboards and both held their breath as the light moved to where the stories said a pentagram would lie. “Nothing,” Jack said, suddenly confident. “See, Lucy, just a bunch of old spook. … Hang on, what’s that?” The light glittered for a second as it passed under the bed frame. Jack dropped to his knees and shone the light before reaching under to pull out a heavy black tome with gold binding.

They both felt it. The heavy feet of something very old and very evil pressing down on the floorboards of the stairs. A fear unlike anything either had ever felt rose up inside them. Lucy’s hand began to shake as she backed away from the door. Jack clutched the book to his chest and started to turn the light to the open door. “No!” Lucy hissed. The presence moved again and they knew it was in the hallway. Jack understood shining the light on it would be a fatal error, yet still the thing waited to pounce. At any moment, it could charge down the hall and have them in its clutches. Jack swallowed down his fear and lunged to the door, he slammed it shut and heard the latch catch with a loud click. The Holt house shivered and groaned as a wave of pure malice moved through the room.

“The window, quick!” Jack went over to the old glass shutters. He tried to open them, but they didn’t budge. Instead, he kicked hard. The glass cracked but didn’t break and the shutter windows opened. He looked out and was relieved to see the first floor roof jutting out from the core of the building. “Hop out, but be careful. Don’t slip.” He took Lucy’s hand as she climbed out and dropped with a quiet thud. A loud crash shook the door. The monster or phantom roared in protest. Jack clutched the book to his chest and jumped out of the window. His right foot went through the shingles, but only an inch or so. Getting back his balance, he found a clear spot and jumped to the ground, then turned to catch Lucy as she scrambled down. They paused and held their breath, expecting the monster to sense or smell them outside and come charging out of the house. Nothing happened. They breathed more easily until Lucy looked up at the window they’d escaped from. A shadowed face with red eyes gleaming in an otherwise dark house. It was only there for a moment, but they both saw. They broke into a run, climbed in to the car, Jack still clutching the book, and peeled out of the drive.

They did not speak or look back as they drove away. The further they went from Holt house, the better they felt, but to discuss it would invite the specter to follow. Without anywhere else to go and in need of some bright light and warmth, Jack drove to his place. Lucy finally leaned over and clutched his arm, not noticing the book in his lap.

Jack trudged up small staircase on the back of Mrs. MacDowell’s house leading to his apartment. Lucy had not imagined coming to his place under such circumstances. The memory of the creature, of how it felt to be so near something so malicious, tugged at her and she worried about sleeping. Jack, on the other hand, barely remembered the thing. His mind centered on the book, and the creature which guarded it faded like a bad dream. His keys rattled in the door and soon they were inside the small, cozy apartment.

“Oh, Jack it’s lovely. So quaint!” Lucy said, breaking her long silence. It felt good to talk, as though the bad thoughts slipped out in her words.

“What? Oh yeah, Mrs. MacDowell had it fixed up real nice already. I just moved in some of the personal touches.”

Lucy looked around at the small room. A bed had been set into the wall of one side, making the bedroom no more than a sleeping nook. In the far end, under a porthole window, Jack had set up a small table for meals. In the center of the room, a well used armchair had a stack of books on one side and sheafs of paper on the other. Lucy moved nervously over to the bed to sit down, but stopped at the chair when she realized Jack wasn’t paying attention to her. “Oh, you still have that foul thing? Jack are you crazy?” Wait, what happened with that book? It was something important. Something bad.

Jack didn’t hear her. The book laid open in his hands, and his eyes devoured the red lettering contained within. At first, he didn’t understand it. Though he didn’t know it, the language was Sanskrit, but as his eyes raked over the page, he realized he was looking at English. His lips moved as he read, and the book’s words came to life in a quiet whisper. Jack read it in English, heard it himself in English, and yet to Lucy it sounded like gibberish. “There is a girl in the room. Her name is Lucy. Lucy’s body is young and ripe. I, Jack, have wanted to lie with her. To fuck her. This is not how it will be. Lucy has firm, proud breasts. They swell, and her body grows hot. Her lips are wet, and she is ready to begin.” Jack heard it all with a fascinated horror. His eyes tore themselves from the page long enough to see Lucy removing her sweater. This book is about us. How the fuck can that be? Her breasts seemed to no longer fit in her blouse, and she rubbed them unconsciously while staring at Jack.

“You’re scaring me. Stop it. If this is just a gag it’s not funny, Jack.” Lucy felt uncomfortable, as though someone had turned up the heat in the room. She realized her pussy had gotten wet, and her breasts ached for some reason. What the hell is he reading? The strange feelings in her body grew stronger. A pressure built up in her bloomers. Something pressed urgently against the thin fabric. In a sudden panic, Lucy started to tear off her skirt. Her blouse came with it and she kicked aside her shoes and socks in the process. She pulled down the bloomers and stood in a pair of white undies and her bra. The straps on the bra were too tight and starting to cut into her shoulders. “Jack! What the hell is happening to me? Stop reading!” The pressure returned, more urgent than before. Jack didn’t look up from the book. He’s not even looking at me! God. Pain in her shoulders gave her no choice. She unhooked the bra, and her breasts swung free. They dropped and she knew they were heavier, bigger, but that didn’t concern her most. The pushing pressure in her panties was driving her mad. With a final glance at Jack, she jerked down the underwear. Lucy gasped. A fleshy tube jutted forward from her pussy lips.

“Oh fuck!” Jack yelped. His mind struggled to process what he was seeing. The girl he’d been dating stood a few feet away stark naked. Her tits were swollen and drooped from her chest. He could make out the curve of her ass rounding out behind her hips. Between her legs he could glimpse the folds of her pussy. But from the crest of that slit, a cock jutted out. It was bigger and thicker than his own. He watched as Lucy brought up her small hand and stroked it. She closed her eyes as a pleasant shiver rushed over her. “What have I done?” The book felt hot in his hands, he threw it on the floor between them. “Lucy I’m so sorry. My god, I can’t believe —”

“That you made me grow a cock?” she asked, her voice no longer sweet and frightened, but strong and confident. She moved forward, her gait still feminine. Despite the bizarre sight of Lucy with a thick cock, Jack felt his own stirring in his jeans. Lucy bent and picked up the the book. “Let me return the favor?”

“No, wait, Lucy don’t read any more from that. God knows what could happen!”

It was too late. Lucy’s eyes fixed on the page. “Jack is a rotten boy. He’s mean and doesn’t pay attention to Lucy’s sexy body. He got so caught up in scaring her that he forgot he wanted to fuck her. Lucy did not forget that she wanted to fuck him though. But first, Jack would need the right equipment. First, Jack grows a big pair of soft tits.”

The words were once again caustic and rough in a language that Jack didn’t understand. But he could feel their effect. His chest started to burn and he quickly stripped off his shirt. His nipples had widened and grown sensitive to the touch. Behind them, his once hard pecs had softened into doughy tissue. “Lucy, you have to stop! This isn’t right!” A sudden insidious thought pervaded his mind. But you feel right.

“Next, Jack’s willy won’t do any more. And those little nuts have to be cracked. They go away and Jack gets a fresh, new pussy, tight and wet.”

Jack moaned and felt his jeans get looser. Fascinated by the feeling, he slid his hand under the belt and grabbed for his cock, but found nothing. He slipped his hand slightly further down and felt his new wet lips. Jack unbuckled the pants and kicked them off. He looked down at his body and didn’t recognize it. He looked between his two fat tits to see a smooth tummy, wide hips, and no cock. He heard the book snap shut and looked up. Lucy moved over to him and soon her breast pushed into his, squashing out either side of their embrace. Lucy pulled him into a soulful kiss as her freakish cock slid against his new pussy. Her hands came up to squeeze Jack’s tits, laughing at their equal misfortune and knowing what needed to be done. “I’m going to bend you over and fuck you now Jack, because you’re my bitch, isn’t that right. You read it in the book didn’t you? That Jack’s role is to be my little bitch until all our good works are done?”

“Yes, that’s right,” he knew he was lying but wanted to believe it. An ache in him like nothing he’d felt before gnawed at his mind. He needed a cock inside of him before he went mad.

Lucy spun him around and bent him over the armchair. Inexperienced in the act, she fumbled a bit getting into her position, but once she felt her cock nudging against the swollen pussy lips, she felt right. She ran her hands over Jack’s ass, pleased to see that his narrow butt had changed into wide hips with soft cheeks. Jack looked over his shoulder pleadingly. She could see in his eyes how much he needed it. She touched at understanding that need, but whatever force brought them this far had a stronger hold on Jack than her. She pushed her hands into Jack’s new jiggly ass and slid her cock forward. Carnal heat enveloped her intruding member. She gasped from the tightness, yet slid in with ease. She rocked her hips back and pushed forward again, farther, grunting in pleasure.

Jack boiled with lust. He needed to be fucked. He wanted it more than anything in the world. If Lucy hadn’t been with him, he’d have gone out and found a man, any man, with a cock and shoved it inside of his new wonderful pussy. He sighed with relief as his walls stretched around Lucy’s cock, feeling right for the first time since they stepped through the front door of Holt house. She started to thrust into him harder, building up a speed and rhythm born out of an ancient instinct. God, Lucy is fucking me. With her cock! In my pussy. And it feels fucking amazing. A delightful tension started to build in his core. The back of the chair rubbed against the nub that had been his cock, sending shocks of pleasure up and down his body. He could feel each inch of the glorious cock sliding into him. He could even discern the stretching of his pussy lips as they slid along the smooth skin of the cock. Can she cum? She has to cum! I have to feel it inside of me! Hot white spunk filling me up, please let her cum.

Lucy felt the surge even if she didn’t understand where it was coming from. Her cock pulsed, and she felt Jack’s pussy clamp down as he shoved his ass back against her, insisting she remain rooted inside of him. A cold feeling tickled at the back of her neck for a moment, but then she grabbed hold of his hips and grunted as gouts of cum sprayed into him. Never before had she felt such release. Her grunts turned into cries of pleasure. She felt Jack’s body lock and begin to twitch as he went through the throes of his first female orgasm. He cooed and murmured as the waves rushed over him, boiling the masculinity from his mind. Finally spent, Lucy staggered back. Jack immediately closed his legs to keep the majority of her cum inside him, though much of it trickled out in slow rolling globs.

Lucy took him by the hand and brought him over to the bed. They laid together in silence for a while, their minds both rapidly going over the things that had happened. “That was nice,” Jack finally said, his voice no longer low, but airy and feminine. “What happens now?”

Lucy squeezed his breasts playfully and went over to retrieve the book from where it had fallen. She brought it back to the bed. With a calm smile, she opened it once more and read for a moment silently. The smile became a smirk and she put her hand on Jack’s naked belly. “Now we get ready for what’s next.” She moved her hand lower and sunk a finger into Jack’s cum filled pussy. “But we can enjoy ourselves in the meantime.”