Chapter 12

I’ve been gone from work for several days at this point. While I was home, transforming and becoming (as the girls put it), Gabrielle had been making regular trips to the restaurant. I thought it was just to keep up appearances, but as we drove up in the early evening with the sun setting on the horizon, I realized suddenly that it was Gabrielle who had been here and Gabrielle can’t stop herself from hexing every last little thing.

With my newfound power, I can see hexes in action. There’s so many layered on the restaurant, so interconnected and intricate, that it almost looks like it’s one giant one. I see them almost like holograms, like laser-outlined runic overlays of the real world. Almost everything has nothing at all. The parking lot has one or two sliding over the concrete. The nearby bushes have a few extending far into the sky. And then the restaurant itself is like a neon beacon of magic, designs and runes criss-crossing and constantly running in news ticker-style across the surface.

As soon as we exit the car, Gabrielle and Rosaline are all over me. They wear tiny sleeved minidresses in white and red, respectively. Their cleavage prominent, their stunningly shiny legs promising easy access to their dripping wet cunts covered only by the sheerest and tiniest of panties. They both have on black skintight leather boots; they belong in a 90s music video.

They belong, more importantly, to me.

“Gabrielle, jeez.” I shake my head and nod at the hex work. “Did you have to?”

“I think I did a great job,” she insists. “Wait ‘till you see inside.”

“She can’t help herself, Master.” Rosaline holds my hand. She’s so calming. Serene. This all seems to lose its crazy edge when I touch her. “Try to have patience. We’ll reign her in eventually.” She leans up and kisses my ear and her voice becomes a sultry whisper. “If you want, I mean.”

Nadine trails after us in a school girl skirt and tiny, barely-form-fitting sweater. She looks almost like she has the flu, but a hot flu; she’s barely keeping it together.

Predictably, inside, the restaurant has…changed.

Physically, it’s all the same. The tables are all in the same places.

But it’s filthy from top to bottom with sorcery. Gabrielle’s hexes, prepared and cultivated from days of work. She even has hexes writing new hexes to maintain the absolute mountain of magical power in motion here.

I can read it all like it’s in plain English. The runes spell out everything they’re doing and Gabrielle’s hex-coding commands, while thorough, lack any subtlety.

Our waitresses were always sexy, and of course, Leena was chief among them. But the lovely Nora, Alma, and Helga now look sexier than ever. Their legs are longer; their tits are bigger; and their hair is thicker and blonder than ever. Gabrielle has a thing for making girls look like her, it seems—they all seem now like her little sisters, Nordic cousins of hers that light up with orgasmic delight from halfway across the building when they see me enter.

“Hiiii!” they sing in an identical chorus, smiling beautifully.

I can see from the several hexes attached through their skulls that most of their thought processes now are chained, like a hive mind, and most of their actual thoughts are about me.

They wear tiny leather skirts and heels with long strings that wrap up their calves. Tiny, button-up silk sheer white blouses that do nothing to hide the push-up lingerie underneath. Each girl, I can tell even from a distance, is patently in love with me and thinks they have been for a long, long time.

They’re all dressed provocatively, to say the least. Busy with customers—who are drooling all over them—they hold off from jumping my bones. My cock straining, bulging, and demanding, I try to make my way to the back office where maybe Gabrielle and I can have a talk about rescinding some of her hex work.

But my attention on the waitresses and plans of having Gabrielle distract me dies to almost nothing the second I see Leena. She’s standing at the hostess podium, posing because I don’t think anyone with her banging body can do anything but pose, and shoots me a killer “ohmygod I’m so delighted to see you” smile.

Leena is the standout, because she’s the standout in everything. Even with Gabrielle and Rosaline becoming what they have been over the last few days—Leena could give them both a run for her money. I suspect that this has only been enhanced by Gabrielle’s residual hex magics, but even without them, Leena is a supreme stunner. She’s just got better material to work with—taller, more slender, tighter, bustier than Gabrielle or Rosaline. Her tits are massive but in absolutely the right way, laughing at gravity and filling out the tiny confines of her straining tiny violet sweater dress, in open rebellion of the buttons that desperately try to keep her preciously hot spheres covered.

As Gabrielle, Rosaline, and Nadine have been all I’ve been thinking about for the past two or three days, and the subject of all my orgasmic thoughts—and with all three of them pressing in on me and whispering and giggling to me as I walk through the restaurant—for me to quickly forget about her and focus on Leena is really saying something.

Leena’s spectacular form is barely contained inside of a tight, designer minidress with cut-outs around her middle, revealing the luscious tones of her midriff. Because it’s a sweater dress with sleeves, it looks more formal than it is—totally skintight to highlight the slender nature of her form, but the boat collar revealing the heavy mountains of her spectacular breasts and the microscopic hemline means her high-heeled Aphrodite form is on full display.

Goddamn, I want her. I want to fuck her so bad. And now I know I can.

Fuck.

I stop at the office door, taking in more of Leena and the restaurant. Gabrielle presses in tight on me, so proud of herself. Cocky. Confidant. Arrogant. God, I want to fuck her senseless when she’s like this. Rosaline somehow keeps me measured, whispering something in my ear that calms me, praising me for my discretion in the middle of this erotic madhouse. Nadine drops to her knees and licks my ankles; I’m well beyond trying to stop her.

Leena’s podium is layered down with more hexes per square-inch than anywhere else. They beam up and down like a pillar of light she’s standing inside of, constantly massaging and soaking into her skin. She’s constantly feeling like she’s looking at a mirror on a perfect hair day—constantly receiving the self-admiration of herself when she’s feeling her best. It escalates and exponentiates, only slightly dulling when she eventually cracks and is compelled to run to the bathroom and cum, which she does at the sink so she can see her gorgeous face when she does.

Past her, I can see in the kitchen where more hexes ensure that the food is making itself. It’s being prepared with more precision and luster than ever before. Knives chop, spoons stir, meat sizzles, frying pans sauté all without a single actual person there. There’s an illusion set up that makes it look like a team of beautiful, blonde Gabrielle-clones is doing the work, each subtly different enough that they all look like sisters or cousins.

If anyone tries to walk back there, they suddenly remember something they have to do somewhere else. Prepared plates float onto a bar, waiting under supernaturally enhanced warmers to keep the food at a perfect temperature.

The food itself is plainly drugged—or plainly, I mean, to me. I can see the hexes and lingering sorcerous infusions layered in the drinks, entrées, and appetizers.

When men eat it, they become uncontrollably horny and suggestible. The trio of busty, smiling, seductive waitresses take this opportunity to lead them to one of the five new ATMs and empty their pockets.

Of course, the ATMs have been refilled daily since their new installation.

That’s cash on hand, just for me.

Between the sorcerous preparation of the food and the inhuman efficacy of the transformed waitresses, despite being incredibly busy, there is no wait at the front. People arrive, are served, sucked dry, and sent out within about twenty minutes. Repeat customers—and that’s everyone, after a single dose of this place—don’t even bother ordering. If their cards are turned down at the ATM? They’re banned, magically, the hexes telling them to find something interesting at the button of the ocean unless they have something expensive they can sell for more cash like a car or house or boat. 

Unless, of course, they’re pretty girls.

The pretty girls are given special meals to transform them like the ways the waitresses have been transformed, and pamphlets absolutely filthy with hex magic.

The pamphlets are stored at the hostesses podium and I grab one out of curiosity. The words in English are the kind of weird, nothing, advertising language that you see from time to time.

Discover an adventure that’s waiting just beyond the horizon…

Unlock your potential…

Become your own becoming!

That kind of stuff. In Gabrielle hex-code, of course, what’s written is dramatically different:

Your life is so incomplete without Him.

You can start worshiping greatness today on your own.

All you have to do is cum and moan “Master” and the rest takes care of itself.

Plus a few strategic pictures and disturbingly accurate drawn likenesses of my enlarged, monster cock.

“Did I do it good, Master?” Gabrielle whispers in my ear, stroking my cock through my pants. “I love you so much. I need everyone to worship you. Did I do it right?”

Fuck. I really want to tell her off, but she did go above and beyond. I’m afraid, though, if I compliment her, she’ll take it as motivation to go fuck up something else. A library or a school or, I don’t know, a DMV.

“Good enough for now,” I say, giving her ass a gentle squeeze. “Shut up.”

From the way she fumes, I can tell she’s already brainstorming a dozen new spells to earn my gratitude again. That’s fine, so long as she’s not actively coercing me into fucking up the life of a new girl.

There’s only so long I can delay. I’m so fucking hard, and Leena is so terrifically gorgeous. I’m spurred on by more of Gabrielle’s whispering, Rosaline’s easy coos, but most of all the incredible knowledge that no matter what, my cock will end up inside of Leena’s tight virgin cunt today.

Leaving them behind, I approach Leena with an easy, confident smile. As I do, Gabrielle and Rosaline walk through the restaurant, sharing predetermined orders with Nora, Alma, and Helga. Soon, everyone is filed out and the restaurant slowly dies down—though of course there are still illusory sounds of food being made in the kitchen and background white noise layered with hypnotically-laced suggestions. If anyone comes inside unexpectedly, they’ll fuck off when they remember their house is on fire. It’s not, really, but they’ll think it is.

Leena is looking at some of the people file out. A lust-soaked couple drops a few extra hundred dollars in her overstuffed tip jar. The sight of her from behind and to the side is extraordinary; every angle of her is artwork.

“Hey.” I run my hand down Leena’s back and grab her ass, spinning her to one side and then the other. “You look terrific.”

She simpers and giggles like she’s a school girl with a crush. Completely melting. I cannot describe well enough how arousing it is to grope a woman like her and have her treat me with such open, erotic attention as a result.

“Oh, really?” She tosses her hair. “It’s just something I threw on.”

Any other girl would be playing a little dumb, or playing down her effort. For Leena, she really did just throw it on, knowing she would look just as good no matter what she wore.

“Just incredible,” I say. “Your latest boyfriend must be some kind of guy.”

She bites her lower lip. Her eyes get real big.

“You know I don’t have any boyfriends, Robert.” Her voice becomes extremely small; it’s so fucking hot on a beauty this emphatically dramatic. “I’m saving myself for someone really special.”

I stroke her face with the back of my hand; she leans into it like a cat. Her hair is silky soft.

“Gosh,” she says, clearly thrumming with arousal. “There’s just something about you today. I can’t put my finger on it.”

“Maybe it’s the seventy pounds of muscle I gained over the weekend?”

She laughs, regaining some of her usual confidence. “Oh hush. You’ve always been hot and built, right? I don’t know why I didn’t notice it before. I missed you.”

Her thinking there’s nothing out of the ordinary with my new appearance is of course due to the several dozen or hundred or however many runes that Gabrielle has been chanting all over my body for the past few days.

Gabrielle and Rosaline return, nodding at me brightly. I didn’t think I would be relishing this so much, but I really am. I wanted to be better, more moral—I didn’t want to make Leena mine in this way. I think I could have been perfectly sated with just Gabrielle and Rosaline.

But this is the only way forward if Nadine is going to survive. And I owe it to her, at least.

“We have a proposal for you,” I tell Leena. “Would you come sit down with us?”