Morgan’s Curse, Ch. 2 of 4

Morgan’s Curse, Ch. 2 / 4

The Events Thus Far

Morgan Le Fay is Merlin’s ex-lover, cursed to jump bodies forever due to a past indiscretion. She’s out to kill Merlin and break her curse, now that he’s been reborn (see “Merlin’s Magic Wang” for that story). Morgan is joined in this mission by her lust demon servant, Argyle. In the previous chapter, Morgan transferred into the body of a man who was trying to rape her. That’s where we pick up.


Part 2a: Leaving Las Vegas

I woke up, reeking of sex, with a rock-hard, firm stomach. After several months of pregnancy, it was a relief not to be pregnant for a change. Argyle was sitting next to me, and had dressed me in my sleep.

“How long was I out?”, I asked.

“Only an hour. You cut it close that time, though.”

I nodded, and looked into the back of the car. The infant and mother were there, still passed out. They’d probably both be groggy for at least a day. “Yeah, one more push and I would’ve transferred into the baby. I’d be trapped there until I got old enough to fuck.” I’d had that happen in the past, and it was never pleasant. The last thing I wanted to go through was another childhood.

I took a moment to look Argyle’s new form over approvingly. “Nice tits this time around”, I remarked. Argyle had taken the form of a slim, athletic Hispanic woman this time, wearing a low-cut black bra under an even lower-cut tank top. Beneath that were a perfectly rounded pair of breasts with just the right amount of sweat showing, and a pair of extra-short denim shorts revealing legs suited to a ballerina.

Argyle broke into a toothy grin which concealed her nature better than any glamor spell she’s tried. “All the better to seduce you with, my master”, she simpered.

I rolled my eyes and growled out, “I don’t care what form you try, demon. I may admire the scenery from time to time, but I’m still not fucking you.”

“And after all I do for you”, she sighed in reply.

I looked at myself in the driver’s side mirror, taking stock of my new appearance. There was a day or two worth of stubble on my chin, my body was relatively well toned, and overall I wasn’t unattractive. It’s too bad Rudy was a rapist pig; there was nothing wrong with his looks. “Don’t worry, I’ll let you have this body. Just without me in it.”

Argyle smiled as I twisted the keys in the ignition, bringing the ancient car coughing to life. We turned around and went back the way we came, bouncing along the uneven dirt trail back to the street. A moan came from the back, as my former body began struggling back to consciousness.

I could only channel a tiny fraction of my Power through my male body, but it took very little expenditure to deepen her sleep. I paused for a moment to look for traffic, then pulled onto the road and pointed the car towards the Strip. We crept along in traffic until we pulled into the parking lot at our hotel.

The prophet had been very clear to Mr. Wulf that we couldn’t use our assets for the journey, but I was pretty sure that this wouldn’t be a problem. And anyway, I had a moral obligation to protect the woman I’d been “joyriding” for the past few months, and ensure that her new baby was provided for. It was the least I could do.

Argyle and I dropped them both off in the penthouse bedroom, and I took a couple of moments at my laptop. I sent my standard “check-out” instructions to hotel management, and a second email to a local ob/gyn I keep on retainer in case this sort of thing happens. We’d be long gone by the time he arrived, but at least this woman would be taken care of.

I taped a small, pre-printed information packet to her chest. The packet contained a copy of a valid surrogacy contract, validated with her own thumbprint, and information on the room and a cashier’s check for $500k. Typically the first few days are rough, but sooner or later, the owner of my former body will go back to her former life, puzzled but richer and with a baby she knows for a fact is hers, but doesn’t remember carrying. As for the baby himself, I was confident he’d be well off. Let’s just say that the baby I came that close to giving birth to went on to be named Albert Einstein.

We didn’t spend long at the hotel, as tempting as it would’ve been. Nor did we leave by the private elevator; we just took the normal elevator out. Stepping into the Vegas heat, Argyle and I walked doggedly onwards until we came to Rudy’s beaten-up car. Its engine turned over roughly, clattering to life moments before I put it into gear. It let out a belch of smoke and backfired once before we started to slowly move forwards. “Should we steal a different car, master?”, asked Argyle.

I shook my head. “Rudy’s registration is current, and he’s the actual owner of this car. While I doubt he’s a stranger to the law, no one’s going to miss this car for a day or two. Let’s not add any extra wrinkles, shall we?”

Argyle nodded as we drove west into the mid-afternoon sun, the car reaching the speed limit with some slight effort. The succubus reclined in her seat, letting out a deep breath and shifting around a little. “Breasts can be so tiresome, master”, she purred as she traced her nipples’ outlines with her fingertips. “They always gett hot, and the nipples always get hard and then soft, and then hard again. I don’t know why you prefer staying in a female form”, she pouted.

I shrugged. “I spent my first hundred years in a woman’s body. I’m comfier when I’m wearing one.”

My attention was drawn to the passenger seat just in time to see Argyle pull off her tank top. Her rack was now only covered by a dark, translucent bra which didn’t do much to hide anything. The darkened circles of her Latina areolae peeked through her bra enticingly, but then I snapped my attention back to the road with a muttered curse.

In a female body, Argyle’s advances pose no real temptation to me. But a male body’s urges are much harder to control and predict. I gritted my teeth and kept driving, keeping in mind that as long as our contract holds, I must endure her attempts to seduce me. Sometimes, our contract was almost as troubling as the curse I was trying to break.

Speaking of which, I may as cover that now. The road out of Vegas is very long, and even more boring than it was long.

As I mentioned earlier, my name is Morgana Le Fay. I was half-sister to King Arthur, former lover to Merlin, and if I must say so, amazingly well preserved for a thousand-year-old sorceress. But I once cheated on Merlin with a hot slab of beefcake named Lancelot, and in his rage, he un-anchoring my immortal soul from my body and cursed me to an eternity of wandering.

The rules of my curse are simple: if I’m a man, my soul jumps into the first first woman I impregnate (and impregnation is almost guaranteed with each fuck). Once I’m in the woman’s body, by definition that body is already pregnant. If a man cums inside me while I’m pregnant, my soul transfers into him; that’s how I took over Rudy’s body. If I fail to transfer into a man before giving birth, my soul gets trapped in the baby.

The final way my soul transfers, sucks the most. Any time I die, my spirit’s drawn into the nearest living human. I’m stuck in the back seat then, so to speak. I can see through their eyes and hear through their ears, but all I can do is watch until the next time they have sex or die. I was once trapped in a monk in the 17th century once, for over fifty maddening years. When the monk finally died of old age, I transferred into another monk. I expected to be trapped for a long time, but I was pleased to discover that the next monk was sneaking out to brothels at night.

One of the minor annoyances about this curse is that I rarely get to finish an orgasm before I transfer. There was one way I could have an orgasm any time I wanted though, except that she’d eat my soul in the process. That brings me to Argyle.

The misinformed would call Argyle an incubus or a succubus, but demons fueled by sex magic are both and neither. These demons may at any moment choose to be male, female, or both. And like most demons, they burn incessantly with a lust for Power.

Like me, lust demons draw their Power from fertility magic. Having sex with one is mind-blowing, but it opens a direct conduit to your soul, allowing the demon to absorb your body and soul. Once absorbed, you’re trapped in hell, perpetually being bled to feed Power back to the demon who damned you. Ordinary humans provided a trickle of Power, but if Argyle could swallow the soul of an ancient sorceress like me, her Power would increase beyond measure.

…which is why Argyle serves me. She believes that some day my guard will drop, and she’ll seduce me in a moment of weakness. Our contract dictates that in exchange for her fealty, I must feed her the souls of the damned and may never command her to stop trying to seduce me. This last clause has produced some embarrassing public scenes over the centuries, but Argyle has learned with time that any success with me will be in private.

Argyle had apparently decided she was going to get particularly distracting. She tilted her chin up provocatively and ran her fingers down her throat, to her shoulders, and then down the gentle curve of her right breast. I watched as her fingers fidgeted on the soft slope of her breast, and then she pulled her bra down and outward, just enough for me to see as she took her nipple between her two fingers and began to idly stroke it. My cock hardened at the sight, and I cursed my luck as this turned out to be one of the more hormonal male bodies I’ve used. No wonder Rudy became a rapist.

She squirmed in her seat, fully aware that pheromones were wafting from her nether regions and filling the car.