Amya’s Illusion chamber was a large round room, with a domed roof, and mystic sigils etched into its stone floor. A round block of stone rose from its center, forming a dais. “Disrobe. Then go there,” Amya ordered, pointing to the stone.
Sir Roland complied, still hesitant about what was about to occur, but also eager for his revenge on Brian. The sorceress’ two orc bodyguards followed him, each bearing a large mirror. When Sir Roland stood in the center of the dais, Amya began to gesture and chant, foul words pouring out of her beautiful lips. As she did so, Sir Roland felt a tingling of his skin, and the air around him began to shimmer. He watched with wide eyes as his limbs became slender and graceful. He looked into the mirrors that the orcs held. One showed his true form: emaciated, sickly, and male. The other showed the illusion that the world saw: a beautiful, healthy, elven female. A particularly well-endowed elven female at that, Sir Roland thought. He cupped the melon-like breasts, and marveled at how real they felt; they were firm yet softly smooth, and quite weighty.
“I do believe I’ve outdone myself,” Amya laughed, “If this body doesn’t make that elf all hot in the pants, nothing will!”
Sir Roland had to agree. The tactile illusion was amazing. He looked, felt, sounded, even smelt like a real elf. And a very attractive one at that. In fact, he mused, looking in one of the mirrors, he was drop-dead sexy.
“Come,” said Amya, “we must dress you now. The elf might be suspicious if you arrive in the nude.”
Sir Roland followed behind, unable to stop himself from cupping his breasts. Their size and feel were incredible. He glanced back once, at the pair of orcs that followed. They clearly appreciated his new body as well – their loincloths bulged spectacularly.
After several minutes, the group arrived at a large wood-paneled room that was filled with racks and racks of clothing. Amya moved straight to a rack to the side, and pulled out a slinky white dress. “Let’s try this on you.”
Sir Roland reached for the dress, but Amya pulled it away. “No need for that. Just hold your arms out, and my boys will dress you,” she smiled. The orcs smiled too, as one took the dress from the sorceress. Sir Roland gulped slightly, but steeled himself, and held his arms out. The big orcs dressed Sir Roland, taking their time to make sure that every bit of fabric lay just so, and feeling up almost every part of the Knight’s illusionary elven body in the process. Each took special care with his pendulous breasts, making sure that the dress’ bosom displayed his cleavage just so. They stepped away, wide grins on their faces, and with loincloths that pointed straight forward.
Amya smiled, and briefly caressed each orc’s crotch. “You look amazing, dear Sir Knight,” she announced, “the elf will be unable to resist.”
If that was true, Brian thought, this would all be worth it.