Stripped of the warlock powers that had been mine all my life, I felt empty, hollow, and horribly vulnerable. Did regular people truly live like this? Unable to conjure a fireball or teleport at a whim? Unable to make gravity your bitch with a simple application of arcane will? Exposed to every vaguery of fate.
A simple car crash could finish me off. A single bullet. I felt so naked without arcane guards and wards, and clung nervously to the scant clothing that covered my feminised form as an emotional comfort. Even my mundane physical prowess amounted to nothing. I cupped my new breasts and my frail female arms trembled at the weight. My wife had gone far beyond taking my manhood, draining my masculine strength so utterly to leave me a defenseless charicature of femininity.
“You’ve had your fun, dear. Now turn me back,” I pleaded, disgusted at the tremor in my high-pitched voice.
She ignored me, slipping out of bed to pull on a pair of panties. Her movements were awkward, as though she was half in orgasmic rapture as my power surged through her, integrating itself with her own witch powers. Compromises were made as she became a vessel for both female and male energies. My eyes widened as a bulge formed in the panties.
“Seeing you so helpless like this is indeed exciting…” she giggled. She cupped her burgeoning cock, which began to tent her panties. “But if you think that’s the limit of the fun I can have from your powers, you’re clearly lacking in imagination.”
“B-but that’s my-”
“Your cock? Of course. Like I said, there are no female warlocks.” Her delicate fingers teased her shaft. She moaned in delighted discovery as it throbbed in response. “So this is what manhood feels like? My my. It's so demanding, isn’t it? Don’t worry, I’ll be taking good care of your organ. Me and a number of my friends,” she added under her breath. Her eyes closed as she conjured thoughts of her female friends one by one - picturing their bodies, their asses, their breasts in the captivating new light of lust, as mere sources of satiation for the needy phallus between her thighs.
When she opened her eyes, she stared at me only in annoyance. Her gaze examined the curves of my female, teenage anatomy like a dog eying a piece of meat, but in her mind she’d already pledged me to another. She raised a hand, my powers glittering darkly around her fingers as she sought to banish me, a source of frustrating arousal, to its proper place.
“The virginal look suits you. But let’s make you perfect for your beloved.”
I stepped back in fear, my fingers instinctively, pointlessly tracing arcane wards that I no longer possessed as the stolen magic ensnared my muggle body.