Words from girlfriend’s past propel him into my dark forest. Peenie. Dinky winky. Inchworm.

Upon my lair, he begs, “Five more inches!”

“Balance must be kept. A sacrifice for a gift,” I warn.

“Anything,” he promises. 

I conjure my potion, lathering his tiny morsel with my magic. My bewitching cunt swallows him as he lies naked on the pentagram. My juices the final ingredient.

I chant while riding him, lengthening him with my undulations. His girth responds to my words, stuffing me. 

Afterward, he marvels at his eight inches, then screams, seeing his acorn-sized balls.

“Your sacrifice.”





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