What would happen if a man actually COULD eye-fuck women? That’s the question this story answers, when an ordinary college student receives a relic of the wizard Merlin.
The idea for this story came from two different places. First, I read a woman’s complaint that a certain shirt she likes gets her “eye-fucked” so much that she needs birth control when she wears it. It left me thinking that it would be interesting if a man actually COULD eye-fuck women. It could be line of sight, TV, photos, whatever. The other half was when I was making fun of a certain fictional franchise based at a wizard school and realized that eye-fucking could be “a thing” using Merlin’s magic wang. And of course, what fun would fucking be without pregnancy?
Part 1: An Unassuming Wooden Ring
If you took a survey of everyone who’s ever studied abroad in college, just about all of them would tell you that it changed their lives forever. Compared to what happened during my semester in England though, they may as well have stayed home.
Towards the end of the semester, I was part of a crowd of people waiting at a bus stop in the rain in front of the Natural History Museum in London. Just like in any big city, the more people there were, the less likely it was that anyone would bother talking to me. But a few minutes before the bus was supposed to arrive, I felt someone tug at my elbow. I turned and looked down, suddenly noticing an ancient, wizened man looking up at me. His face was wrinkled into a perpetual grin. He cleared his throat and addressed me in a high-pitched voice.
“American, yes? You’re studying mythology?”
I glanced down at my notebook, conveniently labeled ‘mythology’. The old timer wasn’t psychic, but he was at least literate. I nodded.
“You know,” he cackled, “Merlin was a right horny bastard. For all the time he spent fuckin’, he never woulda got anything done if he weren’t a wizard.”
I raised my eyebrow and inwardly wondered why I’d drawn the crazy old man’s attention. I resolved to humor him until the bus arrived, rather than risking his anger. “Wizard work didn’t take much of his time?” I asked.
The man shook his head. “No, boy, it took nearly all of his time! But as a wizard, he could invent ways to fuck while he worked. Some lesser wizards would summon a succubus and fuck her, but not Merlin. No, he made himself a portal just big enough to slip his dick through. And he designed it so the other side of that portal would be the cunt of whatever woman he was thinking of at the time. It meant he could have all the jollies he wanted without actually leaving his laboratory. He could mix an elixir with his hands while fucking the living hell out of a woman on the other side of the country.”
“Remote-control sex, then?” I inquired.
The old gypsy man cackled at the notion, then reached into his pocket and produced a smooth wooden ring, inscribed with tiny runes around the outside. “This, boy! When he thought of a girl and put this ring on his cock, it came out inside the girl’s pussy instead of the other side of the ring. He’d fuck her as hard as he pleased, then cum inside her. He didn’t like cleaning up afterwards though, so the spell didn’t let anything from her body stay on his cock. Clean as a whistle for him, but he’d fill her with his cum whenever he wanted.” He paused for a moment. “But no one ever accused wizards of playing fair, now did they boy?”
I wasn’t quite sure what to think, other than that I wished that I had chosen to wait inside the museum. I was left speechless when, with surprising speed, the ancient man pressed the ring into my hand and said, “And now, it’s yours. Don’t let it go to waste.” He stepped back and melted into the crowd as if he were never there, leaving only his high-pitched cackle behind, fading slowly away down the street.
At first I wrinkled my nose and thought about dropping the ring on the ground, but then I was distracted as I realized that my pocket felt lighter. Patting at my pocket, I discovered my my wallet was missing. I nearly had a heart attack before remembering that what was stolen was was just my decoy wallet; my ID and actual spending money was still safely tucked in my waistband. I chuckled and examined the souvenir the old man had inadvertently traded for a cheap wallet full of paper print-outs with the words “fuck you” on them. The ring itself looked like ancient rowan wood, worn smooth over time, with a pattern of intricate runes carved into its outer edge. It felt a little bit warm to the touch, and it was probably worth more than my decoy wallet. Once I got back to my dorm, I packaged it securely in my luggage, then forgot about it for a month until the semester finished up and I returned to America.
Part 2: Drunk Consciences Actually Want You to Get Laid
The next month, I was back in America and had managed to get the drunkest I could remember having been. I’d just come home to discover that not only was my now-ex girlfriend Carly fucking one of my friends, but the friend was female and both parties had refused to entertain the mere notion of a three-way. Carly had already decided that I was going to have to move out of our apartment the following Monday, and had packed all of my stuff in boxes for me before I even arrived. What pissed me off the most was that she’d started cheating on me almost as soon as my semester abroad started, but hadn’t told me anything until today. So, throughout my entire semester abroad, I’d still paid my half of the rent on our apartment and had turned down the attentions of ome very attractive European girls. In the meantime, Carly spent the whole time fucking her new girlfriend’s brains out and using the money I sent back to pay her half of the rent. Being used like that made me madder the more I thought about it, so I chose to get good and smashed before moving to the dorm room I’d managed to secure on short notice. I tend to turn into an asshole when I’m drunk, and this made me feel like being an assholeeven before I started drinking. This was going to be one for the history books.
It was 2am and I’d gone most of the way through a bottle of sake when a tiny, drunk version of me stood up on my shoulder and started shouting into my ear. “You know, you’re being rude to that old guy by not trying out Merlin’s ring.”
I shook my head and begged off, noting that not only was I far too drunk to try it, but the ring was nothing more than a tourist trinket.
“In that case, you might as well use it, eh? You’ve got Carly on your mind pretty well now, so you’d know if it worked right away, right?”
I blinked. Drunk-me had a point, but logical-me just wanted to pee, puke, or pass out. Or all three at once might be even more entertaining.
“C’mon, just do it! You might as well find out if it works, right?”
This went on for a few minutes until I resolved that I was going to throw up. After which, I felt a bit better, which made the voice much more persuasive. Finally, I acceded to the request and staggered into my bedroom, where I’d set the souvenir onto the antenna of my clock radio. I picked it up and scrutinized it, but it it didn’t look particularly magical. But, the sooner I tried it out, the sooner I could get to sleep. I pulled down my underwear and slipped it over my wang, and somehow my cock really did feel like it was inside Carly’s pussy. I thrust a couple of times, and the detached, sober part of my brain noted that this is probably the dumbest way I’ve ever jerked off. Still, I was hard, and it felt good, and it didn’t take me long to cum. I fell asleep with the ring on my wang, and slept the sleep of the dead.
The next morning, I awoke lying on my side. The ring had fallen off during the night, and I had a massive headache. I staggered through my morning routine, then sat down at the kitchen table to drink some water. It barely registered with me that the other two seats at the table were full already.
Carly was already there with her girlfriend Irene, arguing loudly. “I swear Irene, I didn’t cheat on you! I don’t fuck guys anymore!” exclaimed Carly.
Irene was pissed. “I wasn’t always a lesbian, Carly. I know what cock tastes like, and it was coming out of your pussy this morning,” she said.
“Well, that’s impossible! The last man I was with is sitting at that table, and it’s been over for months. I had a really hot dream last night where a man was fucking me bareback, but that’s all.”
I rested my head in my hand. “Do you think you could keep it down, ladies? I’m way hung over here.”
Irene turned on me. “You fucked her last night, didn’t you? Breakup sex for old time’s sake?”
I shook my head. “No, the only thing that got fucked up last night was my kidney and a bottle of sake. Unless she came in and raped me in my sleep, I didn’t touch her.”
I paused and thought for a moment, then staggered to my feet, head still hurting. “But let me point out one little thing, Irene: she told me she loved me, she told me she wanted to spend her life with me, and then she fucked you as soon as my back was turned. What makes you think she’s telling YOU the truth?” I didn’t even wait for the retort before walking off to my room to pack up what little I’d unpacked after my trip, and then bail for campus.
A couple hours later, I was feeling significantly better, and drove my stuff to my new dorm room. The only nice thing Carly had done for me was to make arrangements with the college to let me move into the dorm early if I wanted to, and I certainly wanted to. It was right on campus, on the second story and pretty quiet. Because the semester in England had finished a bit later than the semesters at my school, I’d just missed the bustle as the other students moved out. I just had a futon, a laptop, a camera, and a small assortment of the sort of knick nacks a college student acquires. The only other person around was a hot co-ed down in the parking lot, waiting in a car for her boyfriend. Apparently he was off fighting with the financial aid office.
Since I was bored as hell (and a little depressed) after spending a whole 60 minutes unpacking, I decided to masturbate. My eyes settled on the ring, and I remembered how good it’d felt last night. I was chalking up a good chunk of it to having been extremely drunk at the time, though. I shrugged and resolved to figure out if it was as good while sober. The young lady in the parking lot had leaned her seat all the way back to rest, and I could make out that she was wearing a thin sweater which showcased her glass-cutting, erect nipples. I figured that now was as good a time as any to test the “Merlin” ring, so I picked it up and unzipped my fly. I went up to the window, looking out at her as she waited. I looked down at the ring and muttered, “This is stupid.” Then I slid the ring over the tip of my penis, and watched its tip vanish.
Seriously, the tip of my wang vanished as if it’d never been there. The center of the ring became opaque and black as soon as my penis touched it, and where my tip should have stuck through the ring, it didn’t. On the other hand, the tip of my penis was somewhere warm and wet. I stared down in disbelief at the ring, and slowly pulled it off. I felt the warm wetness slide up and off of my penis, and as soon as my penis was completely clear of the ring, the blackness vanished from its center and it went back to being an ordinary wooden disc.
I put my finger through the ring experimentally, but nothing happened.
Looking down at the girl in the parking lot, I could see her hand resting on her jeans, rubbing a little at the v between her legs. My curiosity piqued, I decided to put the ring back on. I placed it over my wang and slid it down, down, farther and farther, until my penis appeared to have been replaced entirely by the disc. Looking down at the girl in the parking lot, I could see her squirm in her seat and rub her hand over her crotch, gyrating with pleasure as my phantom member entered her. I pulled the ring off halfway, then slid it back down and commenced thrusting regularly. I could feel her muscles moving as she thrashed side to side, caught up in what must have seemed to be the strangest auto-erotic experience of her life. I took the ring between my fingers and slid it up and down my wang, feeling her warm wetness pressing against my wang but magically not coming back through. I stroked and stroked, building up until I felt a familiar fire building in my loins. As I built up to a climax, I could actually hear her screaming in pleasure through the disc as if from far away, even as I watched her in the car down in the parking lot. Looking down, I saw that she’d spread her legs wide and was thrusting her hips into the air, wearing a puzzled but enthused expression. Just as I began to shoot the first of my load, I pressed down on the ring with both hands, ramming my rock-hard penis into it as far as I possibly could. The ring pressed down, and parts of my penis which could never have gotten inside of a girl were suddenly thrust all the way inside of her, adding at least a couple inches worth of length. A muffled scream of pleasure mixed with pain drifted out of the ring as I struck her her cervix and released ounces of pent-up semen. I felt my dick engulfed by her gently spasming pussy as it milked sperm out of me for what seemed like an eternity. Panting with exhaustion and sweating lightly, I pulled the ring off of my wang and looked at it with wonder.
“Damn! If he built this to save himself the bother of getting laid, I really don’t want to know what he came up with to avoid taking a shit,” I mused.
As sweat streamed down my face, I looked down again at the girl I’d just inseminated. She was rubbing her crotch contentedly, splayed out in the passenger’s seat and panting with exhaustion. I picked my camera off of my desk and focused in with my 300mm lens. Zoomed in, I could make out a quizzical expression on her face. She unzipped her pants, and I watched as one of her hands snaked under her panties. I watched her wince as she ran her finger inside of her pussy, then extract it. I could see her stare of disbelief as she sniffed at my cum on her fingertip. Her tongue touched it momentarily, tasting it, and then I was able to read the words, “What the fuck?” on her lips. She furrowed her brows in surprise as she pulled some Kleenexes out of the glove compartment to clean herself up. She finished just before her boyfriend showed up, and I disappeared back into my room to ponder what I should do now.
Part 3: Fuck the News, Literally
It was now pretty much settled that this item did exactly what the old man said it would. Whether or not it was made by Merlin, I wasn’t going to worry about. Putting morals aside, I no longer had to worry about finding a sex partner again. No woman would be out of my reach, unless I decided she was. But morally? Well, there are many words for men who fuck women without their consent, but none of them are nice.
I laid down on my bed and pondered things for a while. You see, I’m a 23 year old guy, alone in a dorm room. My mind kept going back to what had just done, and I’d feel guilty about it. But that would bring back memories of how it felt, and I’d get aroused, and then start feeling guilty again because I was aroused. I wanted to use the ring again, right now, but I was trying not to. In an effort to take my mind off of fucking that girl, I turned on the TV to watch the news.
At first, the news provided a soothing distraction which let me bury myself in politics and local intrigues. That is, until Brianna the weather girl came on. She was in her mid-20s, with a spectacularly well-defined rack and a deep-cut blue dress showing just the right amount of cleavage. I’ve always been a sucker for her look, too: mid-length blonde hair, sky-blue eyes, and kissable lips. Before I knew it, I’d unzipped my fly and had begun stroking myself while looking at her. As I hardened, I felt drawn to the ring. At first it was just a little thought, then it became all-consuming. I whimpered a little as, with my hands trembling, I found my hand reaching for where I’d left the ring. I held it in my hand for a few seconds, my eyes going first to it and then to her, and back. I found myself fighting the ring’s temptation for a matter of seconds which felt like hours, but in the end the ring won. My hand lowered towards my dick, positioning the ring right above it.
Brianna was halfway through the weekly forecast when she gasped in mid-sentence as I slowly, experimentally thrust myself into her. She caught herself and resumed talking, although her face wore a puzzled expression. I could almost hear her thinking, “Make it through the segment, make it through the segment” as I started stroking myself into her rhythmically. To her credit, she managed to maintain her composure and chug through the forecast, although she sounded more and more distracted as I went on. I could see sweat beginning to bead up on her forehead as she neared the end and I just kept going inside her, sliding the ring up and down my shaft. I was starting to get close when her segment ended and cut to a brief on-site piece. Seconds later, I could feel my cock being caressed by her leg muscles as she walked somewhere, then sat down. I wasn’t sure what was going on until the scene on the TV changed, putting Brianna back on screen. She was at a desk with the news anchors, with her hands braced in front of her on the desk and an expression which betrayed just a little bit of panic. Seeing her face again was all it took; I thrust hard and pounded away inside of her, watching as her face reddened and she clutched at the desk with both hands, gasping slightly.
“Are you all right?” the female co-anchor asked Brianna. I felt bad for a moment as the weather girl answered, “Oh, I’m fine. It was just a leg cramp.”
The anchors bantered about something, but I didn’t pay attention to whatever it was. Seconds later, my cock erupted in a volcano of cum. I saw Brianna’s eyes widen suddenly and her hand go to her midriff as she felt my sperm saturate her vagina. Just to be civil, I left the ring on so that the pent-up cum wouldn’t distract her while she was still on the air. Besides, I was still occasionally shuddering with pleasure and oozing a few more drops of sperm into her greedy pussy. I came back to earth and focused on the news again just as their segment ended, and I turned off the TV. I looked down at my wang, which magically looked like it ended with the ring. The last time, the ring’s center had appeared to be black. This time, there was a pulsating green glow at its center. I gave one last thrust with the ring, coaxing just one more pulse of sperm out of my member before I pulled it off. The second it was clear of my wang, the ring’s center faded away and it became once again just a hollow wooden disc.
After that, I found it impossible to stop. The ring was addictive; I could no more stop using it than I could stop breathing. If I tried to stop using it, I’d develop painful blue balls. And somehow, masturbation had stopped working entirely; the only way I could unload sperm now was through the ring. On the other hand, I’ll be the first to admit that surrendering to the ring’s dark seductive power felt damn good.
In some ways, things were good for me that semester. I discovered that the ring worked with any image or likeness of a living woman. On any given night, I would fuck actresses, supermodels, or even girls out of a catalog. There were a few occasions where the ring’s center went red and I couldn’t enter at all, and I learned through experimentation that that meant I was trying to enter a virgin. Merlin may have been a horny bastard like the old man said, but apparently he had taken steps to protect a woman’s first time. I respected that, particularly since I could now tell which of the girls on campus were actually virgins. Not surprisingly, it turns out that fewer than half of the girls on campus who claimed to be virgins actually were. It was only a few weeks before I started overhearing students at the cafeteria talking about “ghost sex”. Apparently they thought the school was haunted by the ghost of a phenomenal lover. I was surprised to learn that at least one of the girls had tried to touch the “ghost’s” penis while it was inside her, but some kind of barrier prevented her from making contact. I took note of that for the future, even as I snapped a picture of their group with my cellphone. I was doing that several times a day, collecting pictures of girls all over campus.
Every day was spent snapping pictures, and every night was lying down with the ring and ejaculating into the pussies of the girls I’d shot during the day. As the days stretched into weeks, and the weeks stretched into months, I noticed changes in myself. I was able to climax 4-6 times a night now, and I’d wake up early in the morning to jerk off into a couple more pussies. Some weekends I would just stay holed up in my dorm room, occasionally working my way through a small sorority over the two days. Filling women with my sperm had become my life; I really didn’t do anything else other than eating and studying.
I was starting to figure out the ring, too. Its center was usually black when I entered a woman, but sometimes it would glow green. On a couple of occasions, it was pulsing green like the night I fucked Brianna.
Speaking of Brianna, a couple of months into the semester, she announced that she was actually pregnant and expecting a child in seven months. Given that I’d fucked her right when I moved in, I knew there was a chance that the baby was actually mine. That’s when I realized what the pulsing green light meant. I also realized I’d seen it several times since then. Brianna was talking to the anchors when I entered her, and she barely managed not to gasp when I entered her. When they asked what had happened, she passed it off as the baby kicking. It was impossible that early, but it saved her from trying to explain that she’d just felt a phantom penis penetrate her vagina. When I looked down at the ring, I could see that its center was glowing blue, then changing to green, and back again. At this point, I pulled out of Brianna instead of going all the way this time around, as I’d already changed her life enough for the time being.
Part 4: A Warren of Beach Bunnies
A few weeks later, I unlocked the door to a fancy multi-million dollar beach house. The house belonged to one of my dad’s friends, and I’d agreed to watch it for the weekend. For my part, I’d brought my camera and had decided that I was going to get enough pictures to satisfy my craving for a while. It was now March, and in California the weekend ensured that the beach was packed, and the heat wave ensured that the women were all nearly naked. Saturday morning, I was sitting in a comfy chair in the guest bedroom, looking out through tinted windows at a boardwalk which brought an endless stream of people walking by, as well as several sunbathers on the beach in front of the house.
My attention was being drawn to a young woman walking by below. She was tall and athletic, with a tightly toned body and a deep but even tan from exercising here in next to nothing just about every day. The only real regret I had was that I’d be unable to feel the rest of her body during our coupling, but I’d certainly feel the part which mattered. I was only wearing boxer’s shorts, so I pulled out my cock and slipped my tip into the ring. My breath caught as the ring’s center showed a pulsing green. If I was right, the pulsing light meant that she was ovulating like Brianna was when I entered her.
My cock slowly slid into the ring, my erection stiffening instantly as I watched the girl freak out. Her eyes narrowed in surprise as I bottomed out inside her, the tip of my cock just brushing her cervix. She put her hand over her pubic region, clearly feeling me as I entered her. I pulled the ring back off of my dick and then thrust into it again, and she let out a muffled gasp as I buried myself in her. I thrust repeatedly, watching her body grow more and more excited as I entered her again and again. She staggered backwards and sat down on a bench, inadvertently facing me and giving me a perfect view as I pistoned inside of her. For a moment, her legs were spread wide and I could see her vulva lips shaking with each thrust as my penis drove into her relentlessly. A wet spot in the center of her camel toe betrayed her arousal, spreading wider even as I kept pounding away at her pussy. Her swimsuit bottom shifted to the side and revealed one of her reddened pussy lips as I drove myself into her. Her face was a slideshow of conflicting emotions: sexual ecstasy, humiliation that this was happening in public, disbelief , and sometimes a flash of guilty pleasure that she was enjoying it all. I heard a muffled squeak from her as she started to climax, and that took me over the edge. I thrust long and hard, staying deep inside her as my cock began to spurt, injecting my seed deep into the pussy of this beach goddess.
I left the ring on as I recovered, enjoying the feeling of staying just barely within her pussy. I wanted to put my arms around her and feel her body nestled up against me, but that just wasn’t possible. After a few moments of panting and recovery on the bench, she got up and started trying to walk on her shaky legs. I could feel the movements of her muscles coaxing my cock. If I hadn’t been tired, I would’ve thought about going for round two – but the sensations were a bit too intense, so I reached into my pants to pull the ring off my cock. Just after I did so, she put her hand to her crotch to cover the wet spot where our fluids had just started pouring out of her pussy. She looked to one side and then the other, then took the towel she’d been sitting on earlier and wrapped it around her waist. I looked down at the pulsing green light, and brought up my camera to shoot a quick snapshot of her. If I’d just gotten her pregnant, I wanted to have a way to check back later.
A few minutes later, after my first fuck of the morning had already wandered off into the distance, I was rewarded with precisely what I’d been waiting for. An obviously pregnant woman was walking my way, her bare late-term belly swaying side to side. I fixed my stare on her and slipped the ring over my penis, entering her vagina. She was due to deliver soon, or so it appeared from how much room there was inside her pussy. I looked down at the ring, and saw that it was simply showing a solid blue. I tried with two other pregnant women over the space of the next half hour, and all of them showed solid blue in the ring. Unless I was wrong, blue meant pregnant, but blue and green (like Brianna) meant pregnant by me.
Now that I understood the ring, my mission had taken a new bend. I suddenly didn’t want to settle for having sex; I wanted to get girls pregnant as often as I could. A small part of me that was used to losing battles by now protested this course of action, but it was ignored. I pulled up my laptop and started looking through the archive of my cellphone pictures, then I got out my ring and started giving each girl one thrust apiece, going through what was easily a hundred girls. Out of my favorite image set, there were two with blue-green colors, five were solid green, and two were pulsing green. I took a few minutes to mate with both of the pulsing ones, hoping to get them both pregnant.
As I lay recovering from my exertions, I realized I was burning daylight and wasting my perfect opportunity to collect more pictures. I brought up my DSLR and started shooting at least one picture of every woman I saw walking by on the beach. I sat there in my chair from morning through evening, shooting every hot, lithe body I saw. It didn’t matter whether they were in swimsuits or t-shirts; I shot almost every girl who walked by. The only pause I took was to download pictures to my laptop and change batteries on my camera when necessary. By the time night fell, I’d taken about three thousand photos of smoking hot women. I spent the night thrusting into each woman once, trying to sort them by whether they were pregnant, fertile, or ovulating. The greens and flashing ones I put into a directory named after today’s date, while the virgins and pregnant women were discarded. The non-flashing ones I left in a “catch-all” directory to check again later, hoping to find their ovulation date.
I got to bed at midnight, then woke up early in the morning and resumed my photography. Overall, between the Saturday and Sunday I got around seven thousand pictures. I think I honestly had one of every female that walked by, other than the old and the under-aged. And I had at least three hundred ovulating women; I was going to have my work cut out for me trying to work through them all.
When my friend’s family came back from their trip, I gladly surrendered the keys to the house and went back to my dorm at college. The photos I’d taken comprised my life’s new mission; I was going to impregnate every single woman I saw. I knew it was wrong, but by now I was pretty much completely powerless to resist. I was working hard on it; after a month of trial and error, I’d sorted out nearly all the pictures by their ovulation dates. And from that point, I just spent my time cumming inside of women. It was all I did before classes, and it was all I did after class. My grades were starting to slip until I got the hang of Merlin’s trick: do your reading and studying while using the ring. Once I learned that, I found that I could focus like a laser. My grades improved overnight, even in classes I’d been hopeless in before. It was almost as if I were drawing vigor and mental energy through the ring, into myself.
And I was becoming a father, more often than not. One week after my beach weekend, the girls I’d fucked started to get pregnant. The ring was flashing blue-green on about three quarters of the girls I’d fucked that weekend, and I started moving the pregnant ones into a different set of folders sorted by the time I got them pregnant. I was still fucking girls as often as I could, and I was moving between 3-4 girls a day to the pregnant folders. As I moved pregnant girls out, I’d concentrate on the remaining women ovulating on the same day, just plowing through them as fast as I could.
Sometimes I’d get lucky, and my picture would be of a group of roommates or sorority sisters with a common ovulation schedule. I managed to knock up 6/7 of the girls in one photo when they all ovulated over the course of one three day period. Of course, over the course of the next few months, I started noticing that a lot of the girls had never showed green, let alone pulsing green. It puzzled me until I realized that Merlin’s ring was probably detecting infertility from birth control pills. I started moving those girls to an “infertile” folder once they’d failed to read as fertile for two months.
It was around now that I decided that my ex-girlfriend Carly needed to have a baby too. It didn’t take long before she was flashing blue-green and she was swearing to her girlfriend Irene that she wasn’t cheating on her. But getting pregnant during a lesbian relationship was kind of hard to pass off as not cheating though, so my plot succeeded and Carly was left alone. I didn’t know what she’d do after that, but honestly I didn’t care what happened to her anymore.
At any rate, as more girls got pregnant I seemed to become more attuned to the ring. I started to need less and less penetration to determine a girl’s ovulation status, up until the ring started showing status as soon as I thought of a girl. I imagine that this may have decreased the rate of auto accidents involving surprised, phantom-penetrated women on the road.
Just as Brianna the weather girl began to bulge visibly with my child on the nightly news, I got back into taking pictures of girls in public to refresh my ‘harem’. Sometimes I’d walk the beach and shoot girls I found particularly attractive, and sometimes I’d shoot from the hip in malls or around campus. I also started shooting pregnant girls who’d just started to show. I was absolutely thrilled when I started catching a few of my own babies in the pregnant-girl pictures. Part of me wanted to approach them and say something, but what can you say in that situation? “Hi, I’m the guy who got you pregnant! I hope you like our baby, but that’s all I’m going to contribute to this relationship. Bye!”
I knew that what I was doing was absolutely wrong by any moral compass, but the inner caveman in my head refused to let me stop doing it. At this point, I felt little more than a primal need to procreate and spread my seed as far as possible, with as many women as possible.
As the months wore on, more and more women were popping up pregnant at the beach and on campus. And there were at least two hundred women now swelling with my children at various stages of development. A few went from blue-green to black; either they’d miscarried or had an abortion. But most of them were carrying on with their lives as my children grew within them.
Part 5: Meeting My Firstborn Son
Brianna went on maternity leave from the news about a month before she was due. It was a pity, as I missed seeing her on TV carrying my child. But I was checking up on her in my own way. The ring was becoming more and more attuned to me; if I entered a woman now and closed my eyes, I could astrally project to her location. I couldn’t touch anything, but I could see her and whatever was around her. By this point, Brianna had stopped protesting as I entered her. If I thrust inside of her, she’d just purr contentedly and rub her pregnant pussy as I coupled with her. She thought I was just some kind of pleasant hallucination, and nicknamed me Casper the Horny Ghost. As for her pregnancy, she somehow believed it’d happened during break-up sex with an ex-boyfriend who had fled the country after she told him she was pregnant. I was entering her nightly at this point, just to keep tabs on her before she delivered my first child. Then one day, I entered her and saw that she was lying on a bed in a maternity ward. She seemed well taken care of, so I left. The next day, the news congratulated her on the birth of our son, whom she’d named Merle.
I continued with my mission into my next semester of college. By my math, once I’d been doing this for nine months I’d probably be a pending father to around 800 children at any given time. Most days I had at least two new children, but some days there were five or six of my women in labor at once. I marveled as they gave me child after child, with a few twins sprinkled in, plus one set of triplets. I was pleased to see that so far, none of my children had visible deformities. But Brianna held a special place in my heart; she was the first woman I’d impregnated, and I tried to time my ‘visits’ with Merle’s feedings so that I could catch a glimpse of him. He was my first, and something about him seemed special to me.
One night, when he was about three months old, Brianna had just dozed off with our son nursing contentedly at her breast. I smiled as he lifted his mouth from Brianna’s perfect nipple, and he almost seemed to look straight at me. I waved; a futile gesture since no one could see my astral form. But Merle stretched out his tiny hand in the direction of my non-corporeal face anyway. I smiled as his hand brushed the air where my cheek would’ve been, wishing I could have actually felt my son’s touch. So, you can imagine my surprise when I actually did feel him touch my face moments later.
“Wait a second, you can’t -“, I began.
My infant son’s mouth opened in a grin, but an ancient voice echoed through my mind like a tidal wave of sound and power. “I can, actually. And I would thank you for the role you’ve played in my return, but I think the pleasures you’ve had while gathering my power were reward enough.”
I *FREAKED*. I reached down with my physical hand and pulled the ring off of my dick, but nothing changed; my astral self was still hovering over Brianna and Merle. My son shook his head and grinned at my attempt to flee his presence. His tiny baby mouth opened again, but the words formed in my mind instead: “Sorry ‘father’, but I’m not done with you yet.”
I clamped my hands over my ears, although it didn’t make a difference. The voice was still there, louder than my physical ears could have withstood without going deaf. Every syllable was like the thundering of Niagara Falls, but with the clarity of a musical instrument on a sound stage. “Tomorrow, you will ‘accidentally’ meet my mother at a place of my choosing. She will fall in love with you, and you will marry her after a brief courtship. I will be your perfect son, and you will be a perfect father. In private, you will be my servant and will help rebuild my power the same way you’ve been building it until now. And until I have regained my full power, you may not speak my true name except when you address me as your master.” The voice, impossibly powerful and old, paused for a moment and then resumed. “My mother only thinks she chose my name. Do you know what ‘Merle’ is short for?”
I could only summon a tiny voice to squeak out, “Merlin?”
The baby giggled happily, and then I abruptly returned to my physical body. I was lying in my bed, face towards the ceiling, wide-eyed and horrified at tonight’s revelation. Any other new father would have felt his heart melt to have spent time with his firstborn son, but mine was a leaden weight in my chest. Now everything made sense: the ring itself, the compulsion I felt to use it, and even my overwhelming urge to get women pregnant. As I got women pregnant, the ring (and Merlin) gained strength. It was already long past the point where I could stop if I wanted. I was already a slave to the ring – and to its maker, my “son”.
“I am damned,” I whispered to myself.
Other Material From This Author
You’ve just read “Merlin’s Magic Wang”, which is a short lead-in to my Arthurian series. The second story is “Morgan’s Curse”, which is considerably longer and follows Morgan Le Fay in her quest to destroy Merlin. The third story, which hasn’t been fully sketched out (let alone written and edited) is tentatively titled “Mordred Rising”.
My other series is titled “Progenitor”, and follows a resurrected man who has been tasked with spreading the next stage of evolution. Progenitor is presently undergoing a large-scale rewrite with additional content.
As always, you may reach me via email at firstname.lastname@example.org