THE MAGIC CLOAK: Chapter I: THE WEAVING OF THE MAGIC CLOAK

Disjointed Wishes will continue/conclude next month, but sadly I am unable to satsifactorily complete this month's update at this time. However, please enjoy Chapter 1 of the this project, which is nearly 4,000 words and contains a variety of transformations!

~dS

THE MAGIC CLOAK:

The Unexpected Eroticals of Princess Slick

Original text and story by

L. FRANK BAUM

1905

Revisions, and New Material by

DAN STANDING

Copyright 2019

Chapter I: THE WEAVING OF THE MAGIC CLOAK

The fairies assembled one moonlit night in a pretty clearing of the ancient forest of Butee.

The clearing was in the form of a circle, and all around it stood giant oak and fir trees, while in the center the grass grew green and soft as velvet. If any mortal had ever penetrated so far into the great forest, and could have looked upon the fairy circle by daylight, she might perhaps have seen a tiny path worn in the grass by the dainty, delicate feet of the reveling faire folk. For here, during the full of the moon, the famous fairy band, ruled by good Queen Luvia, loved to revel and make merry while the silvery rays flooded the clearing and caused their gauzy wings to sparkle with every color of the rainbow.

On this special night, however, they were not reveling. For the queen had seated herself upon a little green mound, and her band clustered about her, their bare limbs and bodies interlaced and casually caressing whatever sensitive flesh was in reach.

Queen Luvia’s long, slim legs were crossed, and her slight bare chest was licked by the cool breeze of the night. Chocolate colored nipples stood out stiff and proud atop two pointed breasts that would have barely filled the palms of her own dainty hands. With a sigh she began to address the fairies in a tone of discontent.

“I am tired of reveling, my dears,” said she. “Every evening since the moon grew big and round we have come here to frisk about and laugh and disport ourselves; and although those are good things to keep the heart light, one may grow weary even of merrymaking. So I ask you to suggest some new way to divert both me and yourselves during this night.”

“That is a hard task,” answered one pretty sprite, opening and folding her wings slowly - as a human lady would toy with her fan. “We have lived through so many ages that we long ago exhausted everything that might be considered a novelty, and of all our recreations nothing gives us such continued pleasure as reveling.”

“But I do not care to revel tonight!” replied Luvia, with a little frown.

“What if we made something else of ourselves for the night to pass away the time? Something with simpler pleasure, like those of the squirrels?” spoke up a lithe fairy named Silva.

“Hmm, that is a thought,” Luvia considered, and with a quick flick sent a spark of magic at the lass, “Let us know what you think.”

Silva, not intending to be a volunteer, took a step back as Luvia’s powers struck her. The dainty foot she’d leaned back upon quickly sprouted grey fur, the little toes bulging into paws, and her nails becoming claws. As the fur grew up from her feet, over her ankles, and along her calves Silva felt her feet stretch and her legs bend to match those of a squirrel’s.

A pleasant pressure pushed a long bushy tail out from above Silvia’s slight rear, which had already been overtaken by grey fur and shifted back into a haunch. Her bare slit was overtaken in the white under-belly fuzz, as was her taut stomach and slight breasts. Her arms shrunk slightly as the fur sprouted along them, her fingers growing short and fat as Silva’s hands became paws.

The faire lass had no time to protest before she felt her jaw stretching, the front of her face pushing outwards to form the muzzle of a squirrel. Her nose broadened, and her eyes grew in size, her irises expanding to the point that Silva’s pretty golden eye color was replaced entirely by blackness. She felt her teeth broaden and grow outwards, and her ears pull back and stretch. Her wings folded down and were pulled under the grey fur.

For whatever reason Luvia had kept Silva’s shoulder-length red curls atop her new squirrel form, and as the changes stopped Silva felt her new hind legs bend and drop her onto her rump, her new tail twitching behind her. Every bone and muscle was different, and Silva could feel how much her skeleton and tendons had changed and warped, pulling her body in ways completely new to her. Silva’s forward paws hung out in front of her, and her head zipped around looking from fairy to fairy as she adjusted to her new perceptions and sensations.

One such sensation was that her sex was in deep heat - perhaps permanently. She fidgeted on her haunches and looked at Luvia.

“Well, how is it so far?” the queen asked.

Silva wanted to explain how she hadn’t meant such a literal change, and how she’d wanted it tied to some sort of lunar shift that would change her back, and to ask how long she would be so horny.

But all that came out was, of course, “Chit-chit chitter chit!”

“Ah, well, come back to me when you have something more relevant to say,” Luvia sighed, and she turned to the other fairies-in-waiting. Silva relaxed onto all fours and sat quietly, her mind wandering to what nuts may be in the nearby trees.

Or other squirrels...

“We might create something, by virtue of our fairy powers,” now suggested one fairy who reclined at the feet of the queen, a finger tracing the lines of her ankle, under her sole, and to her toes - but hovering just above the queen’s milky skin.

“Ah, that is just the idea!” exclaimed the dainty Luvia, with brightening countenance. “Let us create something. But what?”

“I have heard,” remarked another member of the band called Ivia, “...of a slinking-cap having been made by some fairies in America. And whatever mortal wore this slinking-cap was able to conceive the most sensual and erotic thoughts.”

“That was indeed a worthy creation,” cried the little queen. “What became of the cap?”

“It was given to a mortal queen! Before she gave in to her pursuit of the pleasures of the flesh she hid it safely away - so safely that once her sex-flooded mind became dedicated to enjoying her body she herself never could think afterward of anything else - including where she had placed it.”

“How extraordinary! But we must not make another slinking-cap, lest it meet a like fate. Cannot you suggest something, else?”

“I have heard,” said another by the name of Granisa, “...of certain fairies who created a pair of enchanted boots, which would always present their mortal wearer as their most beautiful.”

“What a great boon to those fickle mortals!” cried the queen. “And whatever became of the boots?”

“They came at last into the possession of a lovely model who proclaimed that her beauty was best captured as a marble statue, and thus she became - boots and all!”

“Did her fellow mortals do nothing to assist her?”

“Yes - as they thought she had commissioned a statue of herself she has since been put on display at a museum! Only the fairies can hear how much she desires not just the looks but the touch of those who admire her now.”

“The boots were worn by a selfish woman, surely,” said the queen; “But we want no enchanted boots. Think of something else.”

“Suppose we weave a magic cloak,” proposed Clefta, a sweet little fairy who had not before spoken.

“A cloak? Indeed, we might easily weave that,” returned the queen. “But what sort of magic powers must it possess?”

“Let its wearer have any wish instantly fulfilled,” said Clefta, brightly.

But at this there arose quite a murmur of protest on all sides, and an eager chitter from Silva, which the queen immediately silenced with a wave of her royal hand.

“Our fellow fairy did not think of the probable consequences of what she suggested,” declared Luvia, smiling into the downcast face of little Clefta, who seemed to feel rebuked by the disapproval of the others. “An instant’s reflection would enable her to see that such power would give the cloak’s mortal wearer as many privileges as we ourselves possess. And I suppose you intended the magic cloak for a mortal wearer?” she inquired.

“Yes,” answered Clefta, shyly; “that was my intention.”

“But the idea is good, nevertheless,” continued the queen, “and I propose we devote this evening to weaving the magic cloak. Only, its magic shall give to its wearer the fulfilment of but one wish; and I am quite sure that even that should prove a great boon to the helpless mortals.”

“Suppose more than one person wears the cloak,” one of the band said; “which then shall have the one wish fulfilled?”

The queen devoted a moment to thought, and then replied:

“Each possessor of the magic cloak may have one wish granted, provided the cloak is not stolen from its last wearer. In that case the magic power will not be exercised on behalf of the thief.”

“But should there not be a limit to the number of the cloak’s wearers?” asked the fairy petting at the queen’s dainty feet.

“I think not. If used properly our gift will prove of great value to mortals. And as a caveat, all wishes will be granted with a sexual skew. Mortals are always much distracted in the subject of sex, and that should redirect their thoughts from the cloak’s abilities. And if we find it is misused we can at any time take back the cloak, although its magics enacted shall be indelible. So now, if we are all agreed upon this novel amusement, let us set to work.”

At these words the fairies and Silva the squirrel sprang up eagerly; and their queen, smiling upon them, waved her wand toward the center of the clearing. At once a beautiful fairy loom appeared in the space. It was not such a loom as mortals use. It consisted of a large and a small ring of gold, supported by a tall pole of jasper. The entire band danced around it thrice, the fairies carrying in each hand a silver shuttle wound with glossy filaments finer than the finest silk. And the threads on each shuttle appeared a different hue from those of all the other shuttles.

At a sign from the queen they one and all approached the golden loom and fastened an end of thread in its warp. Next moment they were gleefully dancing hither and thither, delicate skin brushing against prancing bodies, with the occasional lusty caress of grey fur, while the silver shuttles flew swiftly from hand to hand and the gossamer-like web began to grow upon the loom.

Presently the queen herself took part in the sport, and the thread she wove into the fabric was the magical one which was destined to give the cloak its wondrous power.

Long and swiftly the fairy band worked beneath the old moon’s rays, while their feet tripped gracefully over the grass and their joyous laughter tinkled like silver bells and awoke the echoes of the grim forest surrounding them. And at last they paused and threw themselves upon the green in a playful pile with little sighs of contentment. For the shuttles and loom had vanished; the work was complete; and Queen Luvia stood upon the mound holding in her hand the magic cloak.

The garment was as beautiful as it was marvelous - each and every hue of the rainbow glinted and sparkled from the soft folds; and while it was light in weight as swan’s-down, its strength was so great that the fabric was well-nigh indestructible by anything other than iron.

The fairy band regarded it with great satisfaction, for every one had assisted in its manufacture and could admire with pardonable pride its glossy folds.

“It is very lovely, indeed!” cried little Clefta.

“We should test its wish granting abilities, would you like to try it first, Clefta?” asked the Queen, handing the cloak to the little fairy.

“Gladly!” Clefta exclaimed, taking the cloak. Although she knew whatever changes the cloak made to her were irreversible, Clefta - like most fairies - would make merry of practically any predicament, “What would a mortal wish for? They do think of sex quite a bit, perhaps...I wish I was able to have twice as much sex!”

The lithe little fairy stood eagerly awaiting the results of her exclamation, and did not need much patience for it. In mere moments she felt a tingle between her thighs, and upon spreading them she watched as a second slit bloomed outward and her original shifted to the side so that both could nestle evenly between her legs. Their center shared labia settled in the middle of her groin, and Clefta moaned as each took a sheen as her naturally amorous nature found itself doubled.

“Ohh…” groaned Clefta, her eyes closed and her lower lip was bit. She could feel how her second pussy had pushed up within her, a dual sensation of empty need. She closed her thighs ever so slightly, an action that had never stimulated her lone slit before, but now found that the space taken up by a pair meant that even the smallest pressure from her legs warmed her belly twice as erotically. “That is very well granted! I am quite distracted.”

“Aye, indeed, but that wish was too overt!” exclaimed Ivia, reaching a hand out, “Let me do one more subtle.”

“Please do,” answered Clefta, handing over the cloak.

“I find myself thirsting too often,” Ivia said in a lowered voice she felt befitted the sound of a mortal as she held up the cloak, “I wish to always have a drink of ale nearby.”

No sooner had Ivia spoken the words when she felt a tingle upon her breasts. Barely enough to fit across her miniature palms Ivia stared down as they swiftly began to plump. She could feel a cool soft pressure beneath her nipples, and it was building up. As the tightness expanded so did the skin of her bust, stretching with a quiet groan as her skin slowly grew to accommodate. The new mass was soft and as Ivia pushed her hands against her growing bosom - each bazoom now large enough to spread her fingers as she gripped - she felt the slosh of liquid within her chest.

In short time Ivia was gasping at two boobs upon her nearing the size of her head, her dainty legs spread so that she could account for the new weight. She fluttered her wings to ease the strain upon her back. At the end of her dipping doorstops Ivia felt her little nipples growing, the tingle like an electric mouth wrapped around her teats. They widened from tiny buds to long nozzles the width and length of her thumbs, their tips puckering as the pressure within Ivia’s bust continued to increase despite how the growth of her bosom had ceased.

Needing to do something about the dull ache in her pink melons Ivia gripped her nipples, and a foamy wheat-colored liquid spurted forth, flowing full and cool through them. Desirous to sate her curiosity and suspicions Ivia - for the first time - lifted her breast to her face and took a teet between her teeth. A delicious ale rushed free into her mouth, and she hummed at the dual pleasure of suckling her breast and simultaneously relieving the pressure.

As she enjoyed her new drink the slim hand of Granisa plucked the cloak from Ivia’s crooked arm. The suckling fairy turned to her fellow sprite in surprise.

“We must test the thieving rules,” Granisa explained, and Ivia nodded in approval. “I wish for admirable beauty worthy of acclaim and display!” exclaimed Granisa.

The slim fairy had not expected anything to come of her statement - as she had taken the cloak from its previous holder - and was surprised as a tingle overtook her entire body. In mere moments simultaneous alterations were made to Granisa’s form. Her chest and hips - dainty as all other fairies’ were - expanded outward. Her breasts stretched out closely to the size of Ivia’s, and her hips and rear end pushed outward to the sides and back. As her hourglass was forming her skin was becoming pale, and her muscles slowing to undertake commands.

Granisa was soon a sexy statue standing still silently sighing. Her wings, once glassy-gossamer, were stone sheets impossible to have been carved. Her granite body had been made extremely sensitive - it could even feel the caress of the eyes looking upon her, and in her mind she begged for hands and lips to caress and kiss her new curves.

The fairies looked to Queen Luvia, who surmised, “When Ivia nodded her approval of Granisa’s proposal the cloak was no longer unwillingly given up. That is what caused Granisa’s wish to be granted. But I feel we have seen enough and need no further testing.”

“Then to whom shall we present it?” asked Clefta, her legs crossed and squeezed tight. Although this inflamed her doubled need all the more, the clench obstructed Clefta from plunging her hands into her two needy slits.

The question aroused a dozen suggestions, each fairy seeming to favor a different mortal. Every member of this band was the unseen guardian of some woman in the great world beyond the forest, and it was but natural that each should wish her own ward have the magic cloak.

While they thus disputed, another fairy joined them and pressed to the side of the queen.

“Welcome, Areal,” said Luvia. “You are late.”

The new-comer was very lovely in appearance, and with her fluffy golden hair and clear blue eyes was marvelously fair to look upon. But she was - in respect to fairies - clearly exhausted, and took no note of the alterations made to her four fellow faire ones. In a low, grave voice she answered the queen:

“Yes, your Majesty, I am late. But I could not help it. The old Queen of Slipthia, whose guardian I have been since her birth, has passed away this evening, and I could not bear to leave her until the end came.”

“So the old queen has died at last!” said Luvia, thoughtfully. “She was a good woman, but woefully uninteresting; and she must have wearied you greatly at times, my sweet Areal.”

“All mortals are, I think, wearisome,” returned the fairy, with a sigh.

“And who is the new Queen of Slipthia?” asked Luvia.

“There is none,” answered Areal. “The old queen died without a single relative to succeed to her throne, and her five high counselors were in a great dilemma when I came away.”

“Well, my dear, you may rest and enjoy yourself for a period, in order to regain your old lightsome spirits. By and by I will appoint you guardian to some newly born babe, that your duties may be less arduous. But I am sorry you were not with us tonight, for we have had rare sport. See! We have woven a magic cloak.”

Areal examined the garment with pleasure.

“And what does it do?” Areal asked.

“Make a wish as a mortal would,” Luvia prompted.

“Very well, I wish for breasts the size of grapefruits.”

And at once her bust was tingling. Areal stared down as warm fat was growing within her breasts with haste, her skin taught and stretching and expanding as quickly as it could. At Areal’s scale her boobs were already the size of apples and still growing. As they reached the breadth of oranges her back began to tip from the weight, her wings fluttering as Ivia’s had to help hold her upright.

Soon Areal’s pink pair of pillows had achieved the size of grapefruits - at her scale. As she placed her hands under her growing meat balloons it became clear that the grapefruits she was growing towards were human-scaled. As her chest grew to the size of golf balls - the side of each breast now beyond the silhouette of Areal’s rib cage - the weight began to overcome the power of her wings.

Slowly the top-heavy fairy tipped forwards, her engorging nipples pointing straight at the soft moss beneath her. As the fat hanging from her ribs pushed outward to the size of baseballs the lowest portion of her curves rested upon the ground, and Areal found herself perched high atop her own bosom, her ass pointed upwards. Her little legs and arms kicked as her body was pushed skyward by her growth, her useless wings flitting haphazardly.

At long last Areal’s full wish had been granted, and she was but a little body growing helpless out of two grapefruit sized breasts sitting on the forest floor.

“Quite amazing,” Areal gasped, deferring to what was clearly amusing the queen, “And who is to wear it?” she asked.

Then again arose the good-natured dispute as to which mortal in all the world should possess the magic cloak. Finally the queen, laughing at the arguments of her band, said to them:

“We shall give it to the first unhappy person met by a chosen representative,” said the Queen. “The happy mortals have no need of magic cloaks.”

The other fairies found this solution agreeable and cheered, while the queen clapped her hands delightedly.

“Excellent. Then go you, Areal, since you are free for a time and have already partially grown to the humans’ size. Carry the magic cloak to Slipthia. And the first person you meet who is really unhappy shall receive from you the cloak as a gift from our fairy band.”

Areal nodded from atop her fleshy perch. Only the Queen could grant the power to become human in size, and she once again felt a tingle across her body as her squirming form grew outward. Her fellow fairies scattered about as large bare feet pushed down upon the ground, and a tall form scaled to her new breasts stood up amongst her tiny company. Areal’s wings had folded and sunk within her back as she had grown, but she no longer needed them to heft the weight upon her chest. She bowed to her queen, and took the cloak from Luvia - which instantly scaled up the moment it passed from one hand to the other. Areal folded the cloak over her arm.

“Come, my playmates,” continued Luvia; “the moon is hiding behind the tree-tops, and it is time for us to depart.”

Granisa squealed silently in delight as eight or so hands lifted her from her frozen stance. A moment later the fairies had disappeared, Silva the squirrel dashing with them, and the clearing wherein they had danced and woven the magic cloak lay shrouded in deepest gloom.