
My phone buzzed and when I pulled it out I saw that my
door sprite had noticed someone loitering outside
my door. I hadn't heard a knock, so I wondered what
was up and opened the video feed from my door
camera.

The witch who lived across the hall from me was standing
in front of my door holding a dowsing rod, her brow furrowed
prettily in confusion. The rod was pointed right at my
door, and when she tried waving it back and forth to point
somewhere else she would quickly return it to point to
my door.

Watching her through the video feed, I could feel myself
develop a semi-chub. I didn't even know her name, but I was
hyper-aware of her. She'd moved in three months ago or so,
and the first time I had seen her in the hall I was floored.
All witches have some physical sign of their power beyond
just their green skin. Most of the time it is something like
an oversized hook nose, warts, a twisted spine, or some
combination thereof, but occasionally it was something
different. My neighbor didn't suffer from any of those,
but after having done some research I suspected she was lucky
enough to have one of the rarer physical sign of power:
curves. Her breasts rivaled soccer balls in size and
her ass wasn't too far behind. Rather than the loose black
robes that made up traditional witchy fashion, she favored
yoga pants and tight tank tops, so whenever I caught a
glimpse of her in the hall or shared the elevator with
her, I got an excellent view of her curves. She also
never wore a bra as far as I could tell. Whenever I
saw her her nipples were denting the thin fabric of her
top and her massive boobs remained remarkably buoyant
despite their lack of support.

Today was no exception, and she looked incredible in
maroon yoga pants and a black tank. For a moment,
I thought she was about to turn around, but then
she muttered a charm under her breath. My door sprite
identified it as divination and tried to stop the
spell, but she blasted right past my apartment's
off-the-shelf wards. They were designed to stop human
mages, not true witches, so it was little surprise.
She probably didn't even notice the resistance.
I'm not sure what answer she got from her divination,
but it seemed to throw her for a little bit of a loop.
She looked surprised, but her expression quickly
shifted to something harder to read. She knocked.

I put my phone away and got up, making my way to the
door. I felt suddenly intensely nervous. I was afraid
she would pick up on the fact that I had been watching
her through the camera. I was suddenly aware that
I had progressed past semi-chub, and did my best to
adjust myself so my erection wouldn't rub against the
inside of my underwear as I walked. Most of all, I
was nervous to talk to the woman who had starred in
the frequent sex dreams I had been having for the last
few months.

"Don't be weird Ron," I muttered to myself under my breath
before opening the door, "hi! Umm, what can I do for you?"

"Hi, I'm Ellen, I live across the hall."
Even her voice was sexy. I realized I had never heard her
speak before, but it was throaty and rich and sent a
tingle down my spine.

"Ron, nice to meet you," I took her offered hand.

"I'm sorry to ask out of the blue, but I'm in a bit of
a pickle and I was hoping you could help me out," she
explained.

"Sure! You want to explain over some tea?" I offered
to let her come in. An ordinary woman might have been
worried about going into the apartment of a strange
man, but I doubted a girl who could turn me into a
toad with the snap of her fingers would worry about
that kind of thing.

"Thanks!" she came inside and followed me to the kitchen.

I put the water on and showed her the options I had.
"So what's the problem?"

"Well, my great aunt just passed away."

"Oh I'm so sorry,"

"Thank you. It wasn't unexpected, but it's still sad. She
lead a long life. To tell the truth, it was a bit of a
relief. The last few years were very hard on her."

I tried to project sympathy, "It often goes like that.
The best thing is to celebrate her life now."

She nodded, "which gets to my problem. Her funeral is
in a few hours, and I realized I have nothing appropriate
to wear. I have a good dress, but I, well, I haven't
really worn a bra in a few years, and none of my old
ones fit anymore. I've been trying to figure something
out for the last few days, but I can't really buy off
the shelf and anywhere I would order from would take
too long. I'm kinda at the end of my rope, so I decided
to dowse for a solution, which lead me to your door."

I didn't know where to put my eyes, "Ummm, I would
love to, well, to help, but I don't, umm, don't really-"

"Don't know how you can help? Yeah, I was confused at first
too. What are the odds some guy has a bra in my size? I
thought the dowsing was a dud, but I did a little divination
to clarify what it had found, and I think you're the answer."

"W-what do you mean?"

"How would you like to be transformed for a few hours? Don't
worry. It's kinda my thing." Transformation was one of the signature
magics of witches.

"You-you mean you want to turn me into a bra," I had lost the
fight and was helplessly staring at her green cleavage now.

"Well yeah, something tells me you'll enjoy the experience,"
I could hear a hint of playfulness in her voice, "and I'll
make it up to you. Having a witch owe you a favor can be pretty
useful."

Part of me felt like I should kick her out, but this was a
once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I knew if I turned her down
I would be kicking myself for not living out my fantasies.
"Umm, ok-" before I could finish my sentence, she had snapped
her fingers and I was fluttering to the ground

"Awesome, thankyousomuch!" she bent over and picked me up,
suddenly seeming much larger. "You have no idea how much of
a lifesaver you are." She pulled her tank top over her head,
letting her massive jugs bounce free. They grew larger and
larger in my field of vision as she pulled me closer and slipped
her arms through my straps. The weight of her breasts settled
into my cups and I could feel myself strain to contain her
abundance. She hooked me on and adjusted me a few times.
I noticed her nails as she handled me. They were a shiny
black, appearing almost lacquered, and until then I had
assumed they were painted, but up close I realized that
they weren't. That gleaming black was her natural color.
Once she finished with me, she pulled her tank back on.
Its neckline was low enough that my lacy edges peaked
out from underneath and allow me to continue to see.

The kettle began to whistle and she picked it up to pour
herself the cup of tea I had offered her earlier. "Thanks
for the tea Ron," she took a sip. "Mind if I bring the
mug back with me? I'm gonna read your surface thoughts
to get your answer ok?"

I panicked. My surface thoughts were all about how heavy
her huge breasts felt, how silky her skin felt against
my strange thin body, how gorgeous she was. I didn't
even feel her brush up against my mind. Evidently she
didn't just possess the incredible magical brute force
that witches were known for, but an impressive level
of finesse.

She chuckled, "Glad to see you're enjoying yourself.
Thanks for letting me borrow the mug. I'll bring it
back."

She walked out of my door and snapped her fingers to
lock it behind her. "You really should upgrade beyond
the stock wards. I can lay something down for you if
you want." I did my best to signal my gratitude for the
offer with my surface thoughts, but I'm not sure how well they
were conveyed. I don't have great control over them,
and being stretched out across my wet-dream of a
neighbor's bust was not exactly granting me better
control.

Her apartment was a mix of on-brand for a witch and
unexpected. There were no herbs drying in the open
air, and I didn't see a cauldron on the stove top,
but there was a broom bopping around cleaning the
place. The broom looked a bit strange since it
had some twine tentacles extending from its handle
at various points. Ellen's apartment was already
pretty spic and span, so the broom didn't have much to
do at the moment, but presumably it used the tentacles
to grab stuff and move it around as it cleaned.

A canvass cloth was laid out over her dining room
table and an arcane engine was disassembled and
laid out across it. It looked like an older model,
but I wasn't sure exactly which. "You work on
arcane engines?" she suddenly asked. She must
have picked it up from my surface thoughts when
I started wondering about the parts on her
table.

"That's awesome! I'm a total gear head. I'm
trying to build a hovercar that can go supersonic,
but it's been pretty slow going. Not a great hobby
for a grad student. I want to pick your brain
later." I thought that she basically already was,
and she giggled, "I guess you're right. You want
me to stop?" I'd always had a thing for magically
powerful women, and the way Ellen was effortlessly
scanning my surface thoughts lined up with about
half the fantasies I had had in my life. "Wow,
you're really getting off on this, huh? No
wonder the dowsing rod lead me to you." I
was flooded with shame, "nono, that's not
bad. It would be pretty hypocritical of me to have
a problem with it. I find it very flattering
actually." Shame gave way to relief, "good, just
relax."

She walked into her bedroom and stripped down
to her underwear. There was a feminine softness
to her figure layered over a powerful core.
It was most evident in her thighs, where thick
muscles shifted beneath the surface as she
moved without being distinctly outlined at
rest. Her belly was trim and toned with
just the faintest hint of a pooch. Every inch
of her skin was flawless, possessing a vibrant
glow of health. She was the most beautiful woman
I had ever seen. "Awww, you're so sweet," she
said. I immediately felt a wash of embarrassment.

There was a black dress laid out on her bed, and it
rose into the air when she snapped her fingers.
She raised her arms and it slid smoothly down
over her. The fabric pressed into me tightly,
cutting off my vision of the outside world.
Enough light filtered in through the fabric
that I could continue to see the shape of
Ellen's shadowy cleavage, but aside from that
I was cut off.

I swayed an jiggled as she moved around, her
heavy bosom always pressing down into me, stretching
me out and straining my body. Mere existence felt
physically demanding though I had no muscles to
flex and shouldn't be able to get tired. She
remained in her apartment for about another twenty
minutes before leaving. I could feel myself swaying
as she walked. Though the motion was gentle, it
was quite taxing. It seemed clear that Ellen
had put me out of her mind as she focused on going
about her business, but despite her lack of attention,
I felt utterly dominated. Her huge tits were so heavy that
their every little motion introduced new stresses in my
flimsy body.

She stopped walking and we paused for a moment before
suddenly lurching into the air in a motion that
jostled me uncomfortably. I panicked, worried a stitch
would pop, but I managed to hold on. Things calmed
down a bit, but I could still feel the air rushing
through the fabric of her dress. She must be on a
broomstick. Ordinary mages like me didn't have the
raw power to fly on their own, but witches could manage it
by channeling their magic through a tool. Traditionally
it was a broomstick, but Ellen could be using something
else.

Eventually, she stopped flying and began walking once
more, her every step bringing with it a subtle movement
that pushed my body to its limits. I set my will and
did my best to endure. I heard voices, but they were muffled,
and I think Ellen had cut me off with a privacy screen
spell. I was grateful for it, because in combination with
her dress cutting off my vision, it eventually allowed
me to slip into a kind of fugue state, focused on nothing
beyond enduring the pressure of her bosom. I only snapped
out of it when I felt the rushing air indicating she
was flying again.

The flight back felt longer than the funeral and wake
had felt, though I knew it was much shorter in reality.
The anticipation of being released made it drag out,
but eventually it came to an end and she walked back
into her apartment. She wasted no time in pulling her
dress off and releasing me. As soon as the weight of
her bosom was gone, I felt a profound sense of loss.
Her boobs had been bringing me closer to the breaking
point with every little motion, but now that they were
gone, I felt empty and cold.

She snapped her fingers and suddenly I was sprawled
out on the floor of her apartment in human form
while she stood over in her panties, a forearm
pressed against her bosom to cover her nipples.
Though my whole body had been pressed up against
them for hours, I was suddenly flustered by the sight
of so much green cleavage. "Thanks so much Ron!
You really were a lifesaver," she gushed.

I got to my feet, "yeah, umm, well, glad I could help.
I'll, umm, just let you get dressed then." I made my
way to her door and made good my escape.

Walking back to my apartment was a chore. It felt
like I had just gone through the most intense workout
of my life. Every one of my muscles was sore, even
ones I hadn't even known existed. Evidently holding
up Ellen's bosom as her bra translated to going through
physical strain in my human form. Now the moments when
it had seemed like I might pop a stitch seemed even
scarier.

The only reason I didn't collapse bonelessly onto
the couch as soon as I got back to my apartment
is because of the overwhelming compulsion to
jerk off I felt as soon as I was alone.
I came into the toilet almost as soon as I
sat down and took hold of my dick. Afterwards,
I remained slumped their for half an hour, unable
to muster the willpower to lever myself up.
When I finally managed it, it was all I could
do to stumble to my bed and collapse in bed.

Ellen had played a significant role in my dreams
ever since she moved in and I first saw her in
the hallway, but that night my dreams centered
around her in an entirely new way. She was the
star of every scene in a lurid kaleidoscope
that painted itself on my mind's eye.

Most of the dreams began with a knock on my
door and her asking for help with an important
task. In one, she explained that her bedroom's
interior design was off and she needed my help
to complete it. I followed her into her apartment
and she showed me a raised platform. In the
fluid logic of dreams, I knew without asking
what she wanted to do, so I got down on all
fours on the platform and let her use me as
a vanity while she applied her makeup.

When that dream dissolved, it was replaced
by her asking for help in replacing a lightbulb.
She once again lead me into her apartment
and asked that I lift her up. For some reason,
we both, quite seriously, seemed to think the
best approach was for me to bend down and
wrap my arms around her waist, burying my
face in her green cleavage, before standing
up to lift her close to the light.

That dream gave way to an incoherent mess
of fragmentary images, all focused on Ellen's
body in some way. The memory of a moment when
she had left the elevator before me was reduced
to the impression her ass had left on me.
Her hair gleamed as she pulled it back,
its dark luster a giving it a star-like gravity.
The sliver of breast visible from behind when
she lifted her arms painted itself across my
whole field of view.

Eventually, the chaos of the imagery coalesced
into a new dream where she was once more knocking
on my door. When I answered it, she explained
that she needed help with her skincare routine.
It seemed somewhat implausible given that Ellen
had skin smooth enough to make a k-pop star
jealous, but I wanted to be neighborly so I
said I would do what I could to help. The next
thing I new, I had collapsed down into a tub of
skin lotion. There was a spatial discontinuity
in the dream and then I was in her bedroom while
she scooped out little bits of me to rub into
her skin.


// turns him into cream and applies him




























// She knocks on his door in a dress and informs him she is
// taking him out as a thank you.
