"Are you sure you want to go through with this?" The woman asked her and the four other women joined hands
around him.
Kyle gulped, suddenly nervous, but he had come too far to back out now, so he nodded.
"Say the words." The woman instructed.
He had to admit, he had been surprised when he had first seen the secret magic guild. He had expected warts,
and black robes and wands and pointy hats. Instead he had seen a house full of women over various ages, some
even wandering around in their underwear they were that comfortable around each other. He had only seen
glimpses of magic - a glass refilling itself here, a flying paper crane there. He didn't want to be a full
time wizard, he just wanted to learn a spell or two. That's why this whole ritual was making him nervous. It
seemed a lot more permanent than one or two spells.
"I am ready to learn magic." He said.
The older woman nodded. He saw Mikaela, his best friend, smile. She had come home the other night and
blabbering about being anointed as some head witch. At first he had thought she was talking about some game,
but after a few glasses of wine she spilled her beans and told him everything. Drunkenly, she had agreed to
bring him here and teach him.
"State your full name." The old woman, whose name he did not know, instructed.
"My name is Kyle Whithington Smith."
"Kyle Whithington Smith, you stand in the Circle of Acceptance and are almost ready to be accepted into the
Guild. We shall now cast the spell of acceptance on you. This is your last chance to withdraw. Speak now or be
forever bound to silence.
Kyle licked his lips. His heart was pounding in his throat. Finally he took a deep breath, squared his
shoulders and met the woman's gaze with a nod.
"Picture your ideal woman." Mikaela suddenly blurted out and was met with dark stares from the other women.
Kyle frowned but closed his eyes did as she instructed. Naturally, he pictured her half naked. a voluptuous
woman with her generous breasts cupped in a leopard print bra, black panties with a blue waistline hiding her
smooth, hairless womanhood. From the legs of her panties, leopard print tights wrapped her curvaceous legs.
Like the rest of her - her plump ass was tanned and firm, easy to grab. Finally, he pictured the way her dark
brown hair cascaded past he shoulders, dangling between her shoulder blades and resting on the tops of her
breasts, framing her pretty face. Kyle had been concentrating so hard he had hardly noticed the women start
chanting.
"You are a flower in full bloom. As if, though a mist, a first loom. You are a fine line that holds beauty. So
fragile, it seems, yet so pretty." They repeated this again and again until the sound of their voices - but
not the actually words - were echoing in his ears and bouncing off the walls of his head. When they stopped
the silence was deafening. Their voices, though little more than murmurs, had been assaulting his hears so
ferociously that now they were stilling ringing.
The old woman cleared her throat, causing Kyle to open his eyes.
"I am Selva Misby, one hundred and forty second Head Witch of the Witches Order. The Lead Witches and myself
have come to the agreement that you are ready to be Accepted into our order." She told him with a smile. "You
said your oath as Kyle Whithington Smith, now you will live as Kelly Rosington Smith."
'What?' Kyle asked himself, looking down. As soon as he saw the leopard skin print, he fainted.