This is Spellman Manor. The cemetery surrounds it. It's grown considerably, since Headmistress Spellman became lady of the manor...
Somewhere in the midst of it all, a grave digs itself. The corpse levitates itself from nearby, and lays itself within the dug hole. Now, the hole refills itself, one shovel-full at a time...
Inside, the house cleans itself...at various rates. The furniture dusts itself. The floor sweeps and mops itself. The furniture levitates, so that the brooms and mops can clean under it. The mirrors, especially, clean themselves...as do the windows...
Here and there throughout the house, a black cat scurries about. She's not what she appears. But then, little in this house is.
A big brown toad sits on the hearth near a grate. Every now and then, he inflates his throat sac, and croaks. Just as often, he cleans his eyes with his tongue.
On a great queen bed in the master's chambers, the lady of this estate sleeps. Her hair is blonde, straight, and bobbed. At the moment, she's in azure lace lingerie. She's very mature-bodied...and often a MUCH better mistress of discipline, in contrast to her five best students (i.e. the Weird Sisters).
On a bedside table, her wand, dagger, and goblet all lie. She uses these while awake, to enhance her powers. She looks forty-four...but she was born in 987. In that time, she's been married, divorced, and widowed. Her marriages never last...not even for a woman her age. But of course, many of her husbands were no-majs. (She hasn't told the Weird Sisters this.) She doesn't look a day over Beth Broderick 2003.
Across the cemetery, there's a sorority house. This is the sisterly and essentially extravagant residence of the Weird Sisters. For them, school is never far. They just have to stand in one of the upstairs grates, and teleport.
Here and there around the grounds, a copperhead slithers. The copperheads in this domed magical community might be more dangerous than the no-maj copperheads elsewhere, throughout the Great Smokies.
At night, the Sisters go out. Harlan's not sure where they go. Funny enough, they're not sure either, when they first leave. Thought clearly isn't their strong suit. That's funny; allegedly, learning new magic is.
In a long rank, they stand in behind the sorority house, with their backs to it. With summoning charms, they each summon a broomstick, one at a time...starting with Ms. al-Aswad. Ms. Boonmee, the Thai one, inconveniently has to sweep a copperhead off her broomstick, as she summons it. Good thing it doesn't bite her. But then, of course, the jungles of Hindu Siam, even in her time, have venomous snakes that make the copperhead look lame. Hence, Siamese Anti-Hindu witches know more than a few snake-repelling jinxes.
Now, they mount up. Ms. Nonomura, the Japanese one, takes point. In an arrowhead-shaped formation, they take off. They might or might not be trying to insult little Harlan, by shaping their formation like an arrowhead.
It's just as well that they don't. Harlan doesn't see them take off...although they've put the mouse cage in clear and present view of their takeoff path.
He can't leave the mouse cage...but the mouse can. Naturally, the Sisters have sewn up protective enchantments around the cage...to keep their new no-maj boy toy locked in. At mealtimes, at least, food conjures itself for him. When nature calls, a toilet conjures itself...and vanishes, as soon as he's relieved his last.
Harlan is still a thousandth his normal size. He dreads that the Sisters plan to keep him like this. At that, Harlan can't help but wonder if the curses they've put on him will keep him young, as the five of them grow into cougars...or MILFs, in some cases...
Soon, the Sisters will see he's not a hard captive to maintain...or ignore. But then, Harlan can't really say he misses his life back in Swain County. He might miss deer-hunting, after a while... Alas, he's not so sure how he feels about the sport, now that he knows that he gets his urge to hunt deer...as well as his less common urge to lick arrowheads before firing the arrows they're attached to...from the fact that his patrilineal predecessors were witch-hunters...and, quite possibly, misogynists. I mean, after all, you never heard of a WARLOCK-hunter, back in those days...
Speaking of which, Harlan should probably be worried that he hasn't seen any warlocks since getting here. But then, he should also be relieved, for he doubts warlocks of any age would respect him any more than these twenty-something witches already aren't. He'll probably never see that sometimes, at night, the Weird Sisters play a sport called Quidditch with a warlock fraternity in McKenzie County, North Dakota. On some nights, they shake things up, and play the same sport with another warlock fraternity in Ashtabula County, Ohio.
For now, in the same blaze orange briefs as before, Harlan lies on a little prison bed that's been conjured for him. He might as well settle down here. Again, he hated his life back in Swain County. And he can't say he preferred his life back in Concord, either.
He actually misses them, when they're gone. Funny; it's too early in the relationship to develop Stockholm syndrome, he thinks...
The Weird Sisters are very smart. Alas, one thing they've yet to learn is that their Headmistress has sewn up disciplinary enchantments around the sorority house of her own. But then, of course, she's had several more centuries to learn new magic, than they have...
Outside, another black cat creeps around the sorority house. Anti-God, Harlan hopes those black cats don't find a way up here... Although he's pretty sure they will, at some point... The copperheads, too... The brown recluse spiders, too...
In the night, Harlan falls out of bed. Under him, a portal of day magic opens. He falls into it, and vanishes. Behind him, the portal vanishes, and seals him inside the Day Dimension.
It wakes him, of course. The Day Dimension, after all, produces so much sunlight, that nocturnal biology knows no sight...if it even exists here.
For Harlan, the Day Dimension temporarily takes the shape of the Rub al-Khali, a desert in Saudi Arabia. Shit; this is probably the sheikh's seraglio in which Ms. al-Aswad was born...
A second look, alas, makes it more apparent that this is a mummy's tomb. Harlan can't tell which pharaoh. He's pretty sure, though, that it's not Rama-Tut. Great; even in the mummy's tombs of the Day Dimension, there's no rest for the weary-eyed...
All around him, scarabs crawl. To him, they're the size of elephants. They don't seem to sense him. Thank god...or Horus, rather...
Making thunder as it goes along, a cat runs past Harlan, too. He's like a ship with four legs. Some of his paws come dangerously close to pancaking him. They don't hit with much force, but they're enough to blow little Harlan away.
Nearby, another portal opens. On the surface, it looks like a Night Dimension portal. Harlan will soon find out for sure...because the portal sucks him through, and vanishes behind him.
Now, he's in an upstairs bedroom...of Spellman Manor. They sometimes get used, when the Weird Sisters stay over. Some of their school lessons require it. This morning, though, they're vacant. Even so, it's a rather big bed for tiny Harlan.
Harlan doesn't yet know that the Weird Sisters' headmistress lives here. Even so, he's going to need help soon. So, he looks for a way off the bedside table, that the Day Dimension left him on...
He's...always wondered about the authenticity of the sterility spells they've put on him. Nearby, a hairpin lies. To little Harlan, it's like an archway.
He climbs to its keystone, with an erect cock. He's been waiting for this. He's not sure why he hasn't done it already. But then, this is the first time, since the Weird Sisters found him, that he hasn't perceived that he's constantly being watched.
Once atop the archway, he stands, and struggles to maintain his balance. This feels like a big hairpin...even if its owner could hold it between her fingers without straining. She...might have to strain her hand, of course, to pry it open...
Now, Harlan lowers his briefs. He leaps, and comes belly-down on the arch's keystone. Now, he jerks off. He tries the best he can...and yet, he can't seem to cum.
Now, Headmistress Spellman's protective magic does another trick. It causes Harlan to inadvertently send a stream of his own scent across the house. Alas, this isn't his normal scent. It's him in rut. This, of course, makes him appealing to women, if they smell it.
The trail travels through the house, and downstairs, into the master chambers. Down here, the Headmistress is still in her blue lace lingerie, and still asleep. She won't stay that way for much longer. Stunning, that it takes more than the dawn to wake her... But then, of course, she uses a dusk magic spell to shield her eyes, as she sleeps...
Ms. Spellman is a day sorceress first...but she knows a few dusk and dawn spells. Some of her dawn ones make her compatible with the Weird Sisters...but not to such an extent that she'd let them get away with everything unruly they attempt with their magic...or just with their behavior in general.
In her sleep, the Headmistress smells the no-maj boy's rut. Her boobs inflate...flat-chested though she often is. She drags her hand down to her pussy, and cuddles it with it...
She sits up with a relaxed smile, feeling seduced. Alas, she can't quite figure out how. She hasn't been married in over four decades...although she has been horny at least once a year since.
With a sleep mask on, she crawls off the bed, and onto the floor. She's on her hands and knees...and still in that lingerie. She follows it up the stairs, down the hall, and into the upstairs bedroom.
A black cat sleeps in a nearby room. She's missing the show going on in the hallway...but she might not want to.
Back in the bedroom, Harlan still jerks off against the hairpin. The pin wobbles, as he does this. Either way, it makes him even hornier.
He stops, when the door opens...and makes a creaking sound as it does. Harlan nearly falls off the pin and hangs from it...as a giantess of a sorceress approaches him...on her hands and knees with a sleep mask on.
With her hands, she feels the bedside table's legs. She feels her way up, and sweeps her hands across the front of the bedside table. Several times, her giant fingers come dangerously close to sweeping the hairpin off...and Harlan along with it.
She's still got her blue nail polish on. Shucks, her nail polish is probably enchanted, to where it doesn't smear off onto the bedding as she's sleeping. With makeup like that, she'd never have to take it off...for bed or otherwise.
Hands on the bedside table, she now stands on her knees. She can tell that this bedside table is where the no-maj boy's rut ends. Alas, she seems to have lost the trail, since...
Her mask vanishes, and she looks down, across the surface of the table. She smiles, with burgundy-stuck lips, adjusts her bra, and fixes her hair, when she sees little Harlan, with his briefs down, hanging from her hairpin.
"Hi there," she says, flirtatiously. "I see you've met my best students."
Terrified, Harlan nods...although he's not yet sure what this giant sorceress means.
"I'm Zelda Spellman," she tells him. "I'm their headmistress...and currently their only teacher."
"Shit," Harlan whispers.
"I apologize, if they've been cruel to you. They can be that way sometimes. If it makes you feel any better, they're that way with younger witches and warlocks, too...and not to mention a few adult ones." She nods her head up. "What's your name, little no-maj?"
"Harlan," he stammers. "Harlan...Kegel."
Now, Ms. Spellman raises her blonde brows. She casts a few spells over him, and analyzes him. "Hmm; interesting. You're a Kegel, and yet, I don't detect any traces of the Kegel witch-hunting patriline in you."
"They said they transfigured it," he stammers. "Or...something like that."
"Hmm...that might be their best spell yet. I've been practicing magic since the end of the 10th century, and never have I detected a transfiguration spell so untraceable... This might very well be the Weird Sisters' best magic yet... But then, of course, it's easy to pull off a simple spell on such a small test subject."
"They turned me into a rat first."
She arches her brows, and gawks. "Oh! THAT would work... In fact, if applied right, it could potentially be the perfect antidote, versus the witch-hunting curse that all Kegel men are born with..." She thinks. "There are a few questions I'd have about that, but as long as it seems to be stable now..." She looks down...and smiles, once he sees that his cock is still erect.
With her huge finger, she bops it several times, as he hangs for his life from the hairpin's arching. Great; just when Harlan hoped that Ms. Spellman would be nicer to him than the Weird Sisters haven't been... But then, it's not like he's not enjoying this...
Ms. Spellman giggles. "You've a crush on me; I can sense it." She fixes her hair. "You might actually be in luck, little no-maj ex-witch hunter."
"I didn't ask to be a witch-hunter," he insists. "Hell, until three days ago, I thought what most no-majs think, where I'm from: that witches are fiction."
"Yes; I can see that we've lost our charm, over in your world...no pun intended. Nonetheless, I can see you've had a long row to hoe...as your kind say, over there."
She takes the hairpin between her two fingers, holds it over her other hand, and shakes it until little Harlan falls into the palm of her hand. As he lies on his back, and reaches to pull up his briefs...his giantess domina intercepts him, and starts giving him a finger-job.
"I apologize, again," she says, "for the way my best students have treated you. I can tell you haven't had sex in a while." She smiles, stands, and takes him downstairs. "Well, it turns out that we're a perfect match." She beams, slightly. "I haven't had it in forty-four years!"
He gapes...all while having his cock elongated by her giant finger. "Forty-four years?! Damn; how old are you?!"
She arches her brows and smiles. "Does the year 987 bring back any memories?"
He looks around. "Well..."
She bops him on the cock with her finger. "You don't have to answer that; that was a rhetorical question."
They're in her bedroom. She tosses him on the bed, and leaves him there, for now.
She closes the door, and locks it with a key. She waves her arms around the room, adding to its security.
All around Harlan, string conjures itself, and binds him. All around him, Ms. Spellman now stands on her knees, on either side of him. If he lies on his back, he can see her camel toe playing peek-a-boo within her blue panties. He's in her thigh gap.
"Oh," Ms. Spellman sighs, as she peels off her bra, and throws it away. It vanishes in midair, as she does so. "I am SO ready for this..."
Little Harlan is terrified, of course. He's about to get fucked by a thousand-year-old sorceress who makes the Weird Sisters look lame.