Chapter Text
“Cousin...” Ambrose sighed. He pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, and after a moment that managed to stretch on for what felt like an eternity, he spoke again.
“This was less than half baked. You’re still... you. You look almost exactly the same. Hell would freeze over before this plan would have worked.”
Sabrina stared at her reflection in the mirror and groaned. Ambrose was right. She had studied up on transforming spells, and took a crack at trying to disguise herself as ‘one of the boys,’ to then sneak into the Top Boy party Father Blackwood was hosting at Dorian Gray’s Room. She figured she could show up as a plus one, gather intel on what to expect for the debate against Nick, then be on her way. However, in place of appearing relatively generic, another nondescript student in the mix, the spell’s results left her easily identifiable, quashing any plans of successful espionage.
Her platinum blonde bob was now a striking white buzzcut. Her eyebrows were slightly thicker, her jawline more angular. She was a notch taller (though still well below the average height of her male peers she was hoping to blend in with, she observed sullenly), and her thin frame was slightly more toned. Wider shoulders, lean biceps and small pecs were pronounced under her outfit. She still had her strong cheekbones, high nose and Cupid’s bow lips, though.
Luckily, she had opted for a more neutral look in place of her usual turtleneck and skirt, as the pile of clothes she landed on were the most readily available earlier that morning, strewn over an armchair by her bed. She was running late for school and didn’t want to get caught up magicking through outfits, imagining her indecision on each spin and once over making her later still. The black t shirt, cuffed black trousers and white sneakers she mostly used for extracurricular activities after school suited her transformed figure well.
“Okay, okay,” she dejectedly conceded. “I can’t go to Dorian’s like this. I’m stuck like this for another 24 hours though, so I guess I’ll just have to lay low.”
“That’s the spirit!” Ambrose shot back, already making his way for the door, not listening to her at all.
“I’ll report back once I’m home. You’re probably not missing out on anything! Don’t wait up— I’m bringing Luke back tonight!”
Sabrina heard the door slam shut downstairs. She angrily huffed, then plopped down on her bed in irritation.
The appeal of briefly swapping sexes had worn off almost immediately. She felt too big and clunky in her body. She ran a hand over her buzzcut, then pulled it back to examine her palms and digits; her hands were slightly larger and coarser, too. She thought she’d weather her Friday night leading into a low key weekend away from school just fine, but after feeling like she was stuck in someone else’s skin, she wanted a fix to return to her true self— stat.
She got up to take stock of herself fully. Up close in her mirror, she noticed, aside from a general taking up of more space, that she also had a hint of five o clock shadow. Her stubble reminded her of Nick—and she felt...her cock twitching in her trousers. She silently gasped in astonishment, embarrassed and unsure of what she’d find should she unzip her pants.
She took a deep breath to calm herself. She unbuttoned her pants, and pulled her zipper down. She did in fact have a cock. It had become fully erect, the shaft straining against her heather grey boy shorts. The head of her cock left a small wet spot of precum, spreading by the waistband.
She pulled her cock out and ran her thumb over the slit, swiping at some of the precum slowly dripping down her shaft. A jolt of pleasure ran through her, propelling her further. She gripped her cock and starting stroking. She stared at herself in the mirror. She looked at her face, her flushed cheeks and parted lips, her masculine features intriguing her.
She closed her eyes and imagined kissing Nick, their rough lips clashing, her stubble grazing against his, her straining muscles pushing back as they grappled for control. She moaned, her mind racing as she edged closer to an orgasm. She imagined herself on stage, debating with Nick at school. She imagined him walking over to her, getting down on his knees. She imagined undoing her pants, gripping a fistful of his hair and fucking his mouth, while the crowd attending the debate looked on in shock. The thought of being so depraved in front of an audience caused more precum to bead and dribble down, a gleaming string softly hitting the floor. She rubbed the head of her cock to gather some of it, slicking her palm to lubricate her shaft further, pumping harder and faster. When she thought of looking out and meeting people’s gazes, she imagined Prudence’s dark brown eyes, pointedly boring into her, her sharp features illuminated by the fires and candles lit to honor their dark lord—and she came.
A loud moan of pleasure tumbled from her lips. She shot thick ropes of cum as each wave of her orgasm increased in intensity, continuing to fist her shaft as fast as she was able. Her usual pointed orgasms that rolled through, spiking then ebbing, were always good, but the feeling of her senses being hammered at, her orgasm being pulled out of her, mustering all of the energy she had, was unlike anything she had experienced before.
She caught her breath, zipped and buttoned herself back up, and headed for her door.