"Winoa?" Zack cried plaintively, patting around for his girlfriend under his belly. His hand eventually reached his dick, which, with a gasp, he realized was shaped with a foot. Squeezing it, he felt a spike of pleasure run up his body. But it was her foot alright, and now that he was squeezing it, it was squirming around.
He breathed raggedly as he tried to hold on. "Winoa, please, stop." He gurgled as he suddenly felt much too full; feeling Winoa pushing from inside his.. whatever it was holding her in. Apparently nothing, as he could see the outline of hands pushing against the taut skin on his belly.
"Please!" he squeezed on a spot on the right side of her sole and she stopped. He squeezed again. Maybe he could communicate with her? But though the two of them tried to figure out a way to communicate, Zack didn't know any sort of language to use. So he started gently stroking her foot, trying to calm her. And felt his engorged belly shake. He imagined she was crying.
He needed help. Maybe he could call someone... He tried to get up, but to no avail. He was able to slide off the couch, but couldn't take a single step before he crashed on his bum. A shock of numbness ran up his spine, and through Winoa, and dazed, he wasn't sure he believed his eye as the room shimmered and faded away, revealing him to be in an entirely different room, with a loud cackling coming from behind him.
Zack pushed on the floor, trying to get up, but to no avail. He seemed to be sitting on a elaborate rug, with pentagram wove into it. It was the same room, just redecorated with a medieval aesthetic. It was like it was decorated by a historical reenactment, or in a movie set in the home of a peasant or - "A witch,"
The voice cackled, and he couldn't turn to look behind him. Fortunately(?) the voice walked around him so he could face it. Despite the cruelty in her voice, he was shocked how young she looked - at least for a witch. She looked like she was 40 at the most - but she had curves, and style. She was wearing a tight red dress under that giant hat and shawl - Zack couldn't help but tell she was a milf.
She bent over, smirking. If he didn't know better, he would have thought she was giving him a show.
"I am. But I can see you are confused, and this would be much more fun if you knew who I was. But first, lets keep our friend from causing any more trouble, shall we?"
The witch reached down her cleavage, giving you a big wink, and pulled out a long, crooked wand of wood and embers. She held it between her thumb and her forefinger and gave it a twirl. Zack's gut clenched.
She gave it a another, and he felt a clenching inside of him, and a scratching and then, a horrible wave of nausea and arousal. Each time the witch twirled her wand, he felt Winoa flip over once, around inside of him; and her foot spun around where his dick was supposed to be. One time, two times, three times- each time, the turning felt smoother, and he realized he could feel the threads, still pulling from where his dick should be, running into him and, he realized, starting to wrap around the foot that was still outside of him as well. Winoa kept spinning round and round, and the tightness he felt before, when she had tried to pull out his cock - it returned, pulling on his breasts, his lips, his hair. Everything felt like it was being pulled inwards and outwards at the same time, and the witch was just standing there, twirling her wand, and laughing.