The door swung open to reveal a magician's inner sanctum. It was far less glamorous than the stage and ultimately a functional dressing room. A vanity mirror ringed with bright bulbs dominated one wall, cluttered with tubes of lipstick, pots of glitter, and a half-empty bottle of whiskey. Costumes hung on a rack in the corner—sequined leotards, feathered capes, the tuxedo jacket she'd discarded.
Zatanna glided inside. Stockings made those legs of hers look thiccer. Her ass too. The pizza guy had to lift his gaze to not eye that ass as it turned, as she set her glass on the vanity and turned, leaning back against its edge. She crossed her legs slowly, the fishnet stockings rasping as one thigh settled over the other. The motion drew the eye inevitably upward, to where the purple velvet corset squeezed her waist and amplified the breathtaking swell of her breasts. They rose and fell with her calm breath.
"So, can I offer you an autograph? A drink? A… pair of spare boxers?" Zatanna smiled lightly and teasingly.
The pizza guy, still flustered from the stage, nodded quickly. "An autograph would be, uh, great. If it's not too much trouble."
"For the man who let me steal his underwear? It's the least I can do." She plucked a glossy show poster from a stack on a chair and uncapped a marker with her teeth. As she bent slightly to write on the vanity, her cleavage deepened impossibly, the rounded tops of her breasts nearly spilling over. He couldn't look away.
Zatanna signed with a flourish and handed it over. "There you are." She giggled, a light, musical sound. Then her gaze dropped pointedly to his waist. "By the way, your zipper is undone."
"Huh?" He looked down and…huh? No way. Flushing red, he realized it was indeed unzipped, that his schlong could be glimpsed through the gap. "S-s-sorry!" Quickly, hurriedly, he zipped it up.
From beside him, Rachel's voice was flat. "You used your magic."
Zatanna's painted lips curved into a slow, knowing smile. She took another sip of whiskey, the amber liquid catching the light. "You got me."
After making sure his zipper was securely up, the pizza guy felt a hot flush creep up his neck. "Right. Well, thanks for the autograph. Your tricks were… amazing. How did you do the one with the watch and the rose petals? That was… wow."
"Trade secret, darling," Zatanna said, but she seemed pleased by the genuine awe in his voice. She pushed off the vanity, taking a step closer. "Okay, fine, since you're so cute."
Did Raven's left eye twitch? Yes, it did, but she was also too curious to interrupt.
"It's a misdirection, really. The watch had the rose petals inside and all I had to do was flick my hands and make the watch disappear." She was close enough now that he could see the fine shimmer of eyeshadow on her lids. "It's about giving the audience what they think they want, while showing them something they never dreamed was possible."
"But, um, there were enough rose petals to fall over three rows," he pointed out. "Could a watch really contain that much?"
Zatanna winked. "Now that's the trade secret, isn't it?"
"R-right." He was nodding, mesmerized by her explanation and her proximity. "And the cabinet? How did you…I mean, I flipped over but I swear nothing moved. Even elevators aren't that smooth." And he had been on some fancy elevators due to his work.
"Ah, the Cabinet of Cosmic Confusion." Her smile turned wicked. "That's translocation magic."
"L-like real magic?"
"Real magic," Raven confirmed in Zatanna's stead. The two shared a look as though they knew each other. Wait, did they?
"'Ecalp reven'—'never place' in reverse," Zatanna said. "It inverts the spatial relationship between two points within a confined area. One moment you're here…" She reached out and tapped his chest with a manicured finger. A jolt of static, or maybe magic, zinged through the fabric. "…and the next, you're there, but flipped. The boxers were just a fun souvenir. I do love a personal token." Her finger trailed down his chest, barely touching, before she withdrew.
He swallowed, his mouth dry. The conversation was a thin veneer over the thick, sexual tension coiling in the room. Rachel was an uncomfortable statue two steps over his shoulder.
Zatanna's eyes gleamed. She glanced down again, and her expression shifted to one of mock-surprise. "Oh! Oh my goodness, your pants are down."
"Huh?"
He looked down again. His jeans, belt and all, were pooled around his ankles. And since his boxers were in his pocket, his flaccid cock hung out, exposed.
'W-w-what—!?'
Even completely soft, it was bigger than most ordinary men. Huge balls and prominent veins emphasized how hung he was. It wasn't an acorn; it was a dormant serpent. Rachel saw it the moment it dropped. Seeing that thing flop between his legs, even though she was behind him, was something. It was hot. It was attractive. Knowing her date was hung like a fucking horse, like women wished their would be in novels.
At the same time, it was embarrassing. Her pale face flushed a deep crimson, and she spun around, presenting her back, one hand covering her eyes. "C-cover up…!"
"S-sorry!" the pizza guy yelped.
Zatanna's original, "Oh my goodness," and mock-surprise lasted a fraction of a second, and in its place was a genuine, wide-eyed stare. "L-Lord, that's…!"
Easily the biggest cock she had ever seen, flaccid or otherwise. Her blue eyes were locked on the hanging snake, her lips parted in a soft 'o' of shock. She wanted to joke and maybe tease him but…her ex-boyfriends didn't come close to being THIS hung. His balls alone were bigger than their cocks. It didn't make logical sense. Was he part horse?
"I… you should really invest in a belt," Zatanna murmured, but her voice had lost its teasing lilt. It was hushed, intrigued.
He bent, scrambling to haul his boxers and jeans up. His fingers fumbled with the button. As he got them to his waist, he felt the metal button give way—the thread snapping cleanly as if cut by a razor. The jeans dropped again.
"M-my bad…!"
Giggling, a slightly breathless, nervous giggle now, Zatanna summoned her phone magically. She darted forward, and as he futilely tried to hold his jeans up with one hand, she pressed close to his side. Her velvet-clad breasts crushed against his arm. She held the phone up high.
"Say cheese!" Zatanna chirped, breathless. This was out of character for her, but, well…this cock looked like magic.
The camera flash illuminated the room. A frozen snapshot: the pizza guy's horrified, red-faced expression and dick hanging out; Rachel, half-turned, one eye peeking between her fingers in mortified curiosity; and Zatanna, grinning wildly, her cheek pressed to his shoulder, her eyes sparkling with pure, chaotic delight. And front and center, the undeniable star of the photo: his massive, upright cock.
"Perfect," Zatanna breathed, looking at the screen. She saved it with a tap. "Sorry about this, I hope you don't mind."
"E-enough." That wasn't Rachel, that was Raven. Her eyes were set with grim determination. With a flick of her wrist, a tendril of black, shadowy energy—her soul self—lashed out. It yanked his pants up to his waist, not as fabric and the cool, living darkness cinched his jeans tightly, holding them up like the world's most supernatural belt. "Let's go. Now."
The pizza guy wanted to say something or look in Zatanna's eyes. But he couldn't even look at Zatanna. "Th-thanks. For the autograph. And the, uh, experience."
Zatanna was surprised by the shadow-bond holding his pants, but slowly raised her eyes to his. The playful magician was gone. In her place was a woman looking at a profound novelty. A challenge. A feast. She licked her lips, a slow, deliberate motion.
"The pleasure," Zatanna said, her voice a throaty whisper, "was all mine. I do hope to see you again."
Raven spun the pizza guy and they were out. They were speed-walking, down the narrow hallway, past the security guards, out into the cool night air of the alley beside the Monarch Theater. The shadow-belt dissolved as they reached the car, his jeans sagging but staying up. He fumbled with the keys, got the door open, and they slid into the dingy interior.
The silence was suffocating.
"Z-Zatanna sure was something…" he remarked.
Rachel stared straight ahead, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. "Yeah, definitely…something."
He put the key in the ignition. His hand hovered there. The image of Zatanna's shocked, hungry face burned behind his eyes. The feel of her breast boobs his arm. The unashamed way she'd looked at him. Really looked at him. Not as a pizza guy, or a volunteer, but as a man.
A reckless, burning need clawed its way up from his gut. It overrode the embarrassment, the loyalty to his date, every shred of common sense.
He took the key out.
"Actually," he said. "Could you wait in the car? Just… two minutes. I forgot something."
Rachel didn't expect it. "Huh—?"
The pizza guy scrambled out of the car and jogged back to the stage door. The guards recognized him, their eyebrows raising. "Forgot something," he panted.
"Okay…"
The security guards let him in. The hallway was quieter now, empty. The bare bulbs hummed overhead. He stopped in front of the door with the star. His heart was a drum solo in his chest. He didn't knock.
He turned the handle and pushed the door open.
Zatanna was at her vanity, wiping off her stage makeup with a cloth. She had removed the corset. In the time he took to get to the care, the stockings were there, oh yes. But she put on a short satin skirt and a black silk camisole now, the thin straps highlighting the smooth slopes of her shoulders. It was a damn thin thing, the circles of her areolas beneath visible. She was in PJs, essentially, and in some minutes, she planned to leave.
"Hm?" Zatanna turned, surprised, at the intrusion. She saw him and cocked her head, a curious, feline gesture. The cloth paused on her cheek. "Back so soon? Did you forget your—" Her words died in her throat.
The pizza guy dropped his pants of his own volition. No magic, it was him.
His erection sprang free, no longer just an impressive sight but a full-blown, demanding reality. A fully, painfully hard cock, the blood-thickened length jutting out from his body at an upward angle. Twelve inches long that tapered only slightly to the broad, weeping head. In the stark light of the vanity bulbs, every detail was mercilessly illuminated: the darker hue of the engorged glans, the prominent dorsal vein pulsing along its length, and the tight, heavy sac of his balls drawn up close beneath its root.
Zatanna Zatara, master magician, purveyor of the impossible, simply stared.
Her lips parted in a soundless gasp. The makeup cloth slipped from her fingers, fluttering to the floor. Her gaze travelled the impossible length of him, from the base nestled in coarse hair, up the thick shaft, to the glistening tip. It was a cock that bypassed her cleverness, her poise, her every defense. It brought out her primal side.
Zatanna was not a slut. She did not seduce random men or any of that. But this man and his ordinary side lit something up in her. It was like finding a toy.
She'd had lovers. Acrobats with lean strength, wealthy men with tailored suits and cultivated charms, even a demigod or two whose prowess was literally legendary. But this… this cock was bigger than any of them. A toy? It wasn't that. It was more.
It was a delivery guy standing in her dressing room with a cock so huge it seemed to alter the gravity in the room. It was thick enough to stretch a fist wide, long enough to hit depths she rarely contemplated. A monster. A beautiful, terrifying, utterly captivating monster.
Her mind went blank. Then it filled with a single, thunderous, entirely un-magical thought: I have to fuck him.
The silence in the dressing room was total, a vacuum held taut by the twelve inch dick. Zatanna's eyes were locked on it. It wasn't just long. It was thick. A dense, meaty pillar that seemed to defy the ordinary limits of male anatomy. The vanity lights gleamed off the bead of pre-cum welling at the slit, a tiny jewel on the crown of a truly monstrous scepter.
The pizza guy didn't say a word. He just stood there, letting her look, his own expression a mix of defiance and raw need. This is what you wanted to see, his posture screamed. Well, here it is.
And then he walked to her. This was going to happen on his terms. She had been teasing him, pantsing him, and now? Now, it was his turn.
It wasn't a seductive stroll. It was a purposeful, hungry stride. The pizza guy closed the distance between the door and her vanity in three long steps. Before Zatanna could form a spell, before she could even gasp, his hands were on her shoulders. They spun her around like she wasn't a celebrity or a member of the Justice League Dark.
"Wha—?" was all Zatanna managed, even though her back arched over the cluttered surface of her vanity. Tubes of lipstick and pots of glitter scattered and clattered to the floor. The mirror reflected her stunned face, her camisole riding up, the black lace of her stocking tops. And behind her, him.
Thwap!
He didn't ask. He didn't tease. He yanked her short satin skirt away, baring the black stockings beneath. That was the main part. That was what mattered. Both hands tore apart the stockings like tissue paper. The sound was a sharp rip that seemed to jump-start her heart into a frantic gallop.
Cool air hit her exposed folds. Then something infinitely hotter, harder, and bigger than anything she'd ever imagined pressed against her pussy.
"Y-you work fast," she remarked, her hands scrambling for purchase on the smooth wood of the vanity.
'This is happening. Now—'
Zatanna fucking Zatara could stop any man from fucking her. But looking over her shoulders, she had never wanted a dick SO badly. With most men, she wanted romance. She wanted flirting.
But him…her knees buckled when his cock notched against her hole. She was wet—shockingly, instantly wet. Her body, betraying all her sophistication, was already slick with anticipation.
The first inch was in when he said, "You ready?" and she nodded.
The first inch. That was all supposed to be, yet it felt like five inches. The head, so wide, stretched her open with a burning, delicious pressure that made her eyes roll back. "Guh—! Ah! AH!"
He didn't stop. He couldn't. He was a man possessed, a quiet fury driving him to pay her back for the humiliation, to claim the awe in her eyes as his right. He gripped her hips, his fingers digging into the soft flesh, and shoved.
Inch by impossible inch, he buried his dick inside Zatanna. The great magician. A woman that was leagues ahead of this ordinary pizza guy.
Zatanna's mouth fell open in a silent scream. Her vision blurred. It was too much. It was everything. Her inner walls, tight and unused to such a siege, convulsed around the intruding girth, trying to accommodate, to accept.
"S-s-so big! So deep! Ngggh~! J-just what kind of m-magic cock IS this!?" Gasp and moan. "G-good gods—! Oh, in the name of the Presence—!"
The fucking…guy was reaching places no one ever had. He was redefining her.
What even WAS his name?
Her mind blanked out when she realized more than half his cock was inside. And there was still more to go.
"M-moore!? Nnggh, j-just how much DICK—" Cue the gasp. "Do you have!?"
The pizza guy grunted and keeled over. His breath was hot on her neck. He was all the way in, his hips flush against her ass, his monstrous length fully sheathed. She could feel his heavy balls pressed against her rear. The cock and the balls…the fullness of this man was absolute, a completeness that stole her breath.
"Haaah…!" She was trembling, oh yes, she was. "A-are you going to…?"
Yes, he was going to move, Zatanna. He drew back, a slow, torturous slide that made her whimper at the loss, the friction exquisite. And then he slammed back home.
"UNNH!"
Oh yeah. Oh yeah. No way she was not orgasming. No way her life wasn't changing from this dick. Theat first thrust jolted her forward, her breasts crushing against the cold mirror. Round breasts and nipples flat against the mirror, and her face oh-so close.
CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—!
But she wouldn't. No, no, she wouldn't break yet.
"Retaw eht ffo gnihtemos ot hguorht em gnilaednuos yreinoteS! Tnaw I - regnorts, lla enil t'nod! Retaw yrevE!"
S-stronger! Make me stronger! And my holes tighter!
That was the translation. Did it work?
"Oh! You got tighter."
Pfft. This was the guy that had fucked Kryptonians into submission. A measly desperate spell was going to do anything. If Zatanna had prepared her cunt beforehand, then yes, this young man might have been struggled. But in that state? As her eyes crossed and she was getting dicked down? As—
CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—!
Was happening?
No way. Not enough focus. Not enough of anything. The sound of his hips meeting her ass was a wet, meaty slap that echoed in the small room, punctuating her escalating cries. He fucked her with a single-minded intensity, no finesse, just deep, powerful strokes that hammered into her very center.
"Oh god! Oh god, oh fuck!" Zatanna screamed, her magic-amped cunt meaning nothing and her willpower shattered into a thousand pieces. Her fingers clawed at the vanity. "It's so big! You're—you're splitting me open!"
He didn't answer. One hand left her hip and tangled in her long, dark hair. He fisted it, pulling her head back sharply, arching her spine into a deeper curve. The sting on her scalp sent a lightning bolt of submission straight to her cunt, which clenched violently around him.
Drool started to trace from the corner of her slack mouth. She was unraveling, becoming just a vessel for this cock, a hole for him to claim. The humiliation she'd doled out was being returned a thousandfold, and she was drowning in the bliss of it.
"I'm cummiiing!! This amazing dick—oh god, you're putting on such a show, you stuuud!!"
He tugged on her hair again. Zatanna's tongue hung out.
"Fuck me! Fuck your magic bitch! Ruin me!"
From an intelligent appraisal to pure slut fuel. Ha. Look at her. The pizza guy was proud to see it.
"Pulling down my pants like that…" CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! "You really were asking for it."
"I wasss!! This magic slut wasss!!"
Zatanna came again, gasping. Her consciousness narrowed to the brutal piston of his hips, the crushing fullness, the slap of skin, and the white-hot coil tightening in her womb.
"I'm—I'm gonna cum agggaiiiin!" she wailed, her voice breaking. "Don't stop! Please, please, please don't stop!"
He drilled into her. The famous Zatanna Zatara, bent over her own vanity, hair a mess, screaming for his cock, was the most potent aphrodisiac in existence. She should have been cleaning up and trying to relax after the show.
But nope.
"Cummiing, cummiing, cummiiiing!! Your diiiiiick is making me cummm!! How can a dick be sooo magical!? Shooo good at making me cuummm~!!"
"It just is."
Right then and there, she couldn't do it. Her cheek slammed into the mirror and her cunt clamped down. Pleasure, raw and electric, surged through every nerve ending, centered entirely on the massive cock currently rearranging her insides. Zatanna's legs trembled, her knees buckling, and in any other positions, she would have fallen. Boobs and face flat against the mirror, held up by his grip on her hips and her hair.
"Shshg! Hgghgshh!"
CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—!
"Gshsgh!!! Jgsssskk!!"
Here was the thing…why stop?
CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—!
The pizza guy didn't let up. He kept pounding through her climax, extending it, forcing whimpers and sobs from her as she convulsed around him. "Again," he commanded, his thrusts becoming shorter, harder, aimed directly at that deepest, most sensitive spot he was now battering.
And Zatanna did. That godly orgasm ripped through her almost immediately, overlapping the first divine climax. She managed to unglue herself from the mirror to look at herself: to see that this one was a silent scream, her mouth open in a soundless 'O', her eyes wide and unseeing in the mirror. Her juices flooded around his shaft, making the already wet sounds even slicker.
"Ah, I'm close too." He casually fucked her through her second peak. "I assume you want it inside, right?"
Right. Zatanna did, even though she couldn't possibly voice when her face was pressed against the mirror again.
Hot, thick jets of cum erupted inside her, painting her deepest reaches with his seed. He came and came, pulse after powerful pulse, filling the incredible tightness she provided. He groaned, long and low, his body shuddering against hers as he emptied himself completely. The feeling of pumping his load into the famous magician, of claiming her so utterly, was a triumph that left him breathless.
They stayed locked together, panting, dripping, a mess of sweat and sex and shattered dignity. The air reeked of sex and spent magic.
Slowly, he softened enough to slide out. A gush of their combined fluids followed his retreating cock, dripping down her inner thighs onto her ruined stockings and the floor.
Zatanna slumped over the vanity, boneless, her forehead resting against the cool glass. She was gasping, her mind a blank, pleasant static.
"Wsahshklk…jsghsh…."
Translation: Wow. Just… wow.
He took a step back, and pulled up his pants. He tucked his now-sensitive, half-hard cock back into his open jeans. He'd done what he came to do. He'd paid her back. It was time to go.
But as he turned toward the door, a weak, slurred voice stopped him.
"…tnemdnop ekat… esrever…"
The words were barely audible, mumbled backwards into the wood of the vanity. But the effect was instantaneous.
The room glowed to the point of making his vision go white. When the pizza guy opened his eyes, squinting, he saw that everything was the same but vibing differently. The walls, the door, the very air seemed to vibrate.
He spun around.
Zatanna was wobbling on her heels. She had turned to face him with a dazed, fucked-out smile. Her camisole was stained with sweat, her makeup smeared. Globs of his cum were plopping down from her well-used pussy.
"A… pocket dimension," Zatanna panted, her blue eyes gleaming with a mad, exhausted light. "Locked. Just us. Time… time moves different here." She took a shaky step towards him. "One hour in here… is about ten seconds out there. Forbidden spell. Uses up my mana… for a week." She stopped in front of him, her gaze dropping to his crotch, where his cock was already stirring again in his pants at the look in her eyes. "But for this… for this cock… I'll drain myself dry."
With a gesture, his pants fell. Zatanna reached down, her fingers trailing over the damp head of his dick, which was already swelling back to full, fearsome life.
"So horny, aren't you…"
"Obviously," she whispered, her voice husky with need. "You just started." Holding his cock, she backed up and guided him until her ass hit the edge of the vanity again. Then she hoisted herself up, sitting on the cluttered surface, and spread her legs wide in a vulgar, inviting display. His creamy cum seeped from her red, puffy entrance.
"Please," Zatanna begged, all pride gone. The greedy hunger of her spread legs said it all. "Fuck me again. Please. I need it. I need to feel you ruin me for hours."
An entire hour for ten seconds? He looked at her, a debauched celebrity offering herself, and any thought of leaving evaporated. He moved between her spread thighs, his resurrected monster cock brushing against her slick, cum-filled folds.
He didn't enter her this time. Instead, he hooked his arms under her knees, hoisting her legs up over his shoulders. The position lifted her hips, opening her impossibly wider, presenting her utterly to him. Zatanna gasped, her hands flying back to brace herself.
"Oh, fuck." Zatanna heaved and looked down down the line of her own body at the massive cock poised at her entrance. She gulped.
He thrust.
Deep.
Hard.
"CUMMIIING~!!!"
Immediate.
He was somehow deeper this way, the angle driving the incredible length directly into her cervix, battering the mouth of her womb with every plunge. Once, twice—
"Making me cum—agaiiin! Y-you stud! Your coccck!!"
He had time now. All the time in the world. He fucked her with deep, measured, devastating strokes, each one making her entire boobs jiggle.
"Yes! Yes! More! You're so deep! You're in my soul!" Zatanna was babbling. Zatanna's head thrashed side to side. So much for her intelligence and magic. "This cock is changing me! My pussy—it's yours now! It'll never be the same! It'll always be your shape!"
The pizza guy—yes, this random pizza guy—fucked Zatanna Zatara like a god of sex. Like his sole purpose was to imprint himself on her very being. He varied his rhythm, sometimes fast and punishing, sometimes slow and grinding, drawing out whimpers and pleas. He leaned forward, her legs tight around his waist, and captured one of her nipples through the damp silk of her camisole with his mouth. He sucked hard, biting gently.
Obviously Zatanna was going to cum. Big dick plus sucking on her nipples?
"You stuuud~! Ngghgh, I can't believe I FOUND you—"
Except he never stopped or paused or did anything to make her stop cumming. He fucked her through it, and kept fucking. Minutes stretched. An hour? Maybe more. In the real world, less than a minute ticked by. In this shimmering pocket dimension, he was a tireless machine, and she was his willing, screaming engine.
Zatanna came again. And again. A fourth time. Her voice grew hoarse. Her pleas became fragmented chants.
"Cock… god…!"
SCHLAP—! SCHLAP—! SCHLAP—! SCHLAP—! SCHLAP—! SCHLAP—! SCHLAP—!
"MINE! FOREEEVER!"
SCHLAP—! SCHLAP—! SCHLAP—! SCHLAP—! SCHLAP—! SCHLAP—! SCHLAP—!
"Bigger… best… !"
SCHLAP—! SCHLAP—! SCHLAP—! SCHLAP—! SCHLAP—! SCHLAP—! SCHLAP—!
"Only this… only this…"
Sweat poured off both of them. The room smelled like a brothel. Her vanity was a wreck. She was a wreck. A beautiful, sobbing, cum-drenched wreck.
"Cumming!"
Which was why he didn't hold back and spewed an endless fountain of seed into her already flooded channel. He was claiming her all over again.
He slumped forward, her legs still over his shoulders, both of them breathing hard. But the pizza guy, he could smile and compliment her. "Good girl," he said, pulling out. A river of white followed, pooling on the vanity beneath her. Zatanna whimpered at the loss.
But her eyes, glazed and desperate, found his cock, which was still massive and hard. It glistened with their mixed fluids.
"More," Zatanna croaked, sliding off the vanity onto unsteady feet. She dropped to her knees before him, causing more cum to drip from her onto the floor. "My turn."
Zatanna didn't use her hands. She didn't use her mouth the conventional way. She stared at his cock with the focus of a master sorcerer. Her lips moved silently, forming a reversed incantation.
"…ytivitisnes erom m'I…"
A soft, pink glow emanated from her fingertips as she gently cupped his balls. A wave of intense, magical sensitivity washed over his dick. It wasn't just physical touch. It was as if every nerve ending was suddenly exposed, hyper-aware, craving sensation.
"Fuuuuck," he hissed, his eyes rolling back in his head. The feeling was unbelievable. "Z-Zatanna, what did you do…?"
Zatanna smiled a wicked, exhausted smile. She leaned forward and simply blew a soft, cool stream of air across the wet head of his cock.
Huh?
Oh my god—!
It was a direct line to his spine. It felt like the most expert tongue flick, multiplied by ten, when it was just her blowing on his cock.
Zatanna did it again, her breath ghosting over his sensitive skin. Then she leaned in and placed a single, soft, closed-mouth kiss on the very tip.
He bucked his hips involuntarily. "Ah! Christ!"
She giggled, a breathless, mad sound. She continued her magical "blowjob." She'd blow air on his shaft, then plant soft kisses along the veined length. She'd nuzzle his balls, her cool breath making him shudder, then press a kiss to the throbbing base. Everything…every little fucking thing was a miniature explosion of pleasure. This spell…
Zatanna was taking the word blowjob way too literally with this spell. Blowing on his cock without sucking on it. It was magical.
"Mmm, do you like my trick that much?" Zatanna teased while seeing his raging red cock.
He nodded, gasping. "Y-yes!" He couldn't hold back. The build-up was too intense, too strange, too perfect, and after one last blow…
"Cumming!"
He came for a third time.
Thick ropes of cum shot out, not inside her this time, but all over her. Her camisole was thin and covered her tits, and he sprayed all over it. He wanted the black fabric gone, but alas, all he could do was unload on it. The last few spurts landed on her chin and her smiling, parted lips.
Zatanna didn't flinch. She tilted her head back, letting it land, a look of blissful conquest on her face. She was marked. Claimed. Utterly defeated and loving it.
"What a good job~!"
Seductively, her hands crossed, grabbed her camisole, and slipped it off. Her boobs were out now, wet but not stained from his baby batter. It was hot. Her titties were jiggling and were shining. It was beautiful.
'What a woman…' Looking down at the stunning, filthy sight of the world-famous magician on her knees, face covered in his cum, tits glowing, and her own pussy still dripping his previous loads onto the floor.
Smiling, looking up, Zatanna remained on her knees, panting, tracing a finger through the wetness on her chest born from the cum that had seeped through and bringing it to her lips. She tasted it, her eyes fluttering closed. "Mmm. Thank you," she murmured, as if he'd just handed her a bouquet.
"Can you go again? We have time…"
His cock lurched on top of her and cast a shadow. He wasn't sure if Zatanna had a boyfriend or lover but he apologized to them. He was going to ruin her. A big-titty celebrity deserved nothing less.
…
…
…
The shimmer in the room began to fade. The pocket dimension was dissolving, its energy spent. The ordinary dressing room walls returned.
'Huh, no more vibrations. Hopefully this means she wasn't lying about the time dilation. Otherwise…'
He looked at the door. Time to go. Rachel was waiting.
He tucked his cock back inside, boxers and all. Yes, this time, he remembered to pull it out of his pocket. He then unlocked it and stepped out into the hallway. He pulled the door closed behind him and for a moment, Zatanna could be seen: legs spread, on the tiny red couch—creampied, cum-bubbling mess—sitting in a puddle of her own pleasure and his creamy seed, a dazed, forever-changed smile on her face.
He walked down the hall, past the same guards. They gave him a longer, more appraising look this time, but said nothing. He pushed open the stage door and stepped into the cool night.
The sky hadn't changed. Nothing had changed. His car was there. Rachel was in the passenger seat, staring out the window. He opened the driver's side door and slid in.
Rachel glanced at him, asking without speaking. "What happened?"
To her, it had been four minutes, maximum. For him, it had been ten hours of some of the most intense, transformative sex of his life. He could still feel the phantom grip of her cunt.
What did Rachel think of him being gone for four minutes? Did he really fuck Zatanna in that time? Kiss her?
He could tell she didn't know.
"It was, um, she took my boxers again."
"Ah."
"And now I have them on. Had to change," the pizza guy said sheepishly, which was true. He did put them on.
Rachel didn't detect dishonesty, but at the same time, did he really not do anything else with her? "Okay…"
Accusing him of lying about his boxers would also be strange and embarrassing for her, so she dropped it.
The pizza guy started the car. The engine coughed to life. He put it in gear and pulled away from the curb, leaving the Monarch Theater, and the magician forever ruined by his cock, behind.
But, well…
What about Rachel? The pizza guys side-glanced her. 'Well, what happens, happens,' and focused on the road ahead.
The silence in the car was a living thing, vibrating with everything left unsaid. The pizza guy didn't want to tell the full truth, some truth yes, but not the full thing. For Rachel, it made everything feel off. The engine's rumble and the hiss of tires on wet Gotham asphalt were the only sounds. Rachel stared straight ahead through the windshield, her pale hands clasped tightly in her lap, knuckles white. The elegant black dress she wore seemed to absorb the scant light from the passing streetlamps.
The four minutes he'd been gone. Four minutes. Logically, it was nothing. But the energy around him… it was different. And the way Zatanna had looked at him… that hungry, awestruck stare that bypassed all of the magician's famed poise…
She had to have done something? Maybe a blowjob or maybe something more…!
The same way she did at the hot spring.
And this date…what was the point of it if she got upstarted?
A cold, sharp spike of something utterly foreign twisted in Rachel's gut. Jealousy. It was a crude, blazing emotion, one she spent every waking moment suppressing, mastering. But this wasn't about cosmic balance or her demonic heritage. This was primitive. Territorial.
The pizza guy started to hum. Innocently and cutely, while Rachel's gaze never left the road. The car slowed for a red light deep in the financial district, the towering, darkened buildings creating a canyon of shadow around them. The light cast a blood-red glow on their faces.
This was her moment.
Without a word, Rachel's seatbelt unclicked with a soft snick. It wasn't her hands that did it; a tendril of black, shadowy energy—a fraction of her soul-self—retracted back into her. She slid across the worn bench seat and did not at all look up at his face. No way.
Rachel was eye level with his crotch.
"Rachel…! What are you…" His words died as her cool, slender fingers found his belt buckle.
"Be silent," Rachel murmured, the command laced with a soft, empathic push—not to control, but to soothe, to open. "And drive."
The clink of the belt release and the unzipping were loud. The pizza guy sucked in a sharp breath, his hands gripping the wheel as the light turned green. The car lurched forward because there were cars behind him.
"W-wait, Rachel…!"
Cool night air hit his exposed flaccid dick for a second before it was replaced by something infinitely softer and warmer. Rachel's indigo hair cascaded over his thigh as she bent her head. She didn't tease. She didn't start with kisses or gentle strokes. She was a woman on a mission, her usual detached solemnity burned away by a fierce, competitive fire.
Her pale lips parted, and she took him in.
All of him. His flaccid dick did not stand a chance.
He gasped, his foot jabbing at the accelerator before he caught himself. "F-fuck, Rachel…"
He was flaccid and he quickly grew. She'd seen it, of course, in the dressing room and at the hot spring. That monstrous, flaccid schlong. But feeling it… feeling the heavy, thick penis push past her lips, the broad crown stretching them wide, the throb that began to tap the back of her throat… it was what she expected.
'Mine,' the possessive thought echoed in her mind, a dark, thrilling pulse.
His cock grew bigger and she did not falter. She used her hands, one wrapping around the thick base where she couldn't take him, the other sliding up to cradle his balls, heavy and full even after… after whatever had happened. Her head began to bob, slow and deep at first, learning his shape. His cock still wasn't at full mast. It was throbbing and thickening some more.
"Mmmpppph~!"
That note made her hollow her cheeks harder and suck with a sudden, fierce intensity.
"Oh, god…" he groaned, his vision blurring for a second as he fought to keep the car between the lines. The dick sucking was unreal. The wet, hot tightness of this demon woman's mouth, the skillful flick of her tongue along the sensitive ridge on the underside whenever she lifted up to the tip, the gentle, knowing pressure of her fingers on his sac. It was meticulous. It was vengeful.
No gentle buildup either. Rachel was forcing his pleasure, taking his response as her due. Her nose pressed into his pubic bone with every deep take, her throat working around the invading head. The dick sucking rang louder than the engine, at least for the pizza guy.
He could feel the orgasm coiling, a tight, electric spring in his fat balls. It was coming too fast, spurred by the shocking aggression of her act, by the crazed context of it all—fucking Zatanna in a time-locked pocket dimension, now getting a world-class blowjob from a demon-touched empath while driving through Gotham.
"R-Rachel—" He gasped. "Raven! I'm gonna…!!"
She didn't stop. If anything, she sucked harder and it became a slurping, hungry rhythm. Her dark eyes, gleaming with a kind of frenzied focus, flicked up to meet his for a split second. 'Do it,' that look said. 'Give it to me.'
The climax hit him like a truck. His hands lost their grip and the car swerved slightly. "CUMMING!"
The first thick, hot pulse shot directly down her throat. She swallowed immediately, smoothly, without a hitch. The second followed, and she swallowed again. The third, the fourth… she took it all, her throat working diligently, her lips sealed tight around him, milking him with relentless suction.
Rachel just kept sucking.
His eyes crossed. His brain short-circuited. The intense, shattering pleasure of the orgasm was supposed to be followed by a hypersensitive respite, a chance to breathe. But Rachel gave him no quarter. The suction continued, softer now but insistent, her tongue lapping at the oversensitive head. It was a sweet, agonizing torture. "Nngh… Rachel, please… t-too much…" he whimpered, his legs trembling.
He still had to fucking drive! He gripped the steering wheel and put the car back in place but…
'Oh god.'
The next light was twenty or so seconds away.
Twenty seconds of dicksucking from Rachel…was it possible to survive? He felt so fucking sensitive after everything that had happened today.
"Huh?"
Fortune seemed to smile on him as Rachel finally released him with a soft, wet pop. A string of saliva and spend connected her lower lip to the crown. His cock was huge, twelve inches long and impossible to ignore. Rachel smirked. She didn't wipe the fluids connecting her to his cock away. She sat up slightly, still crouched in the footwell, and began to chant. The saliva began to glow.
"…thgil fo esnes eht, evitisnes fo erom eht, ni siht eldnah ym…"
Her voice was low, hypnotic, syllables of an ancient, dark language that made the air in the car grow thick and cool. The pizza guy had no idea what was going on.
But here was the thing: he should have expected it. These women were not cheap chumps. They were not common sluts for him to tease and rail as he liked.
They. Were. Titans.
A soft, violet-tinged dark energy coalesced around her fingertips and the saliva that connected them slurped back into her lips. She looked at his spent, still-hard cock with the concentration of a surgeon. The darkly glowing fingers touched her lips and then she leaned forward and placed a single, chaste, closed-mouth kiss right on the weeping slit.
The effect was instantaneous and devastating.
It was as if every nerve in his cock had been individually exposed, dipped in lightning, and then wrapped in the tightest pussy ever.
"Mwah!"
She kissed the tip again.
It was ten times more intense than her blowjob. He cried out, a strangled sound. Just the air from the vent felt like the most expert tongue. And a kiss? Oh god. "A-a-a-about to cum—!"
Spuuurt!
And she let him cum. An arc of white splattered on his steering wheel. More erupted and more ruined and touched his own hands. Rachel didn't care.
She watched his reaction, a small, supremely satisfied smirk touching her lips. 'I don't care who Zatanna is. When it comes to magic of the emotions, mine is far more intimate and powerful than hers,' she thought.
When he was done decorating ropes of white on his steering wheel, Rachel took action again.
She didn't take him in her mouth again. She sworded him. Opening her mouth and taking every fucking inch of cock—and expecting him to cum.
He did cum. Again.
It wasn't a full, muscular orgasm. It was a helpless, total-system overflow. A sharp, high whine escaped him as his cock twitched violently in her throat. He spilled a smaller, but no less intense, two dozen ropes of cum that leaked from the corners of her lips.
One.
That was just one.
To be a sheath was to keep yourself inside.
So that was what she did. This was her show now. Her penance for him, and her victory over the ghost of Zatanna Zatara. She cleaned him with her mouth again, the magical sensitivity making every lap of her tongue a symphony of pleasure that had him seeing stars. That had him cumming and Rachel just letting him spew.
"Mmmpppph~!"
Two. Ropes upon ropes shoved up against her throat. She didn't care. That spell she cast? It made her capable of surviving and swallowing almost any amount of cum. She could defeat her father, Trigon, so what made the pizza guy think she couldn't conjure a spell for a simple cock?
The third proper orgasm was wrung from him in the same way. Rachel intentionally returned to the tip, kissed it, then deepthroated him faster than he could think. She swallowed every drop.
"Three," Rachel said when she pulled out. The act of pulling alone made him cum.
"R-Rachel—!"
It was unnatural. It made him worse than any premature ejaculator on the planet. Air alone affected him and any kind of touch made him bust. Spurt, spurt, spuuurt! Those strings of creamy cum pounced on her pale face. On her gothic make-up and everything.
Rachel didn't care.
"Good boy~!"
Saying that got a worth load out of him. Once he again, he had to drive while Rachel just let him spew cum. He almost passed out and the car would have crashed if they hadn't reached the red light.
The pizza guy's head was thrown back against the headrest, his chest heaving. "R-Raven…! W-w-w-w-wait…"
"You don't have to wait," she stated simply, empathic senses feeling the well of vitality still within him. She was draining it. Purifying it. Making him hers. She kissed the tip again, re-applying the sensitivity spell with a whispered word. The shock made him sob.
"W-w-w-waaait—-!"
"Don't worry, I'll swallow this time~"!
The fifth load was a shallow, rapid fucking of her mouth, just the head, her lips a tight ring. She swallowed and swallowed. And when she left his cock...
"Ah, still hard."
Yep, he was still hard. Not because of magic but because he was that virile. 'L-Lord, is she going to keep going? W-while I'm still...'
Yep, she kept going while he was driving. As though a car crash mattered less than a blowjob. Maybe she cast a defensive spell on the car or something. The pizza guy didn't know. He was clinging onto every ounce of willpower surviving the magically-forced premature ejaculation.
The drive became a surreal blur of streetlights and mind-melting pleasure. His world narrowed to the dark cave of her hair, the impossible softness of her lips, the devastating magic of her tongue. He lost count of the streets, of time, of everything except the building, impossible pressure in his balls, being pulled to the surface again and again by this beautiful goth.
As they turned onto her street, the familiar apartment building coming into view, Rachel redoubled her efforts. She took him deep, one final time, and began a sucking, milking pull that felt like it was drawing the essence directly from his spine. The sixth orgasm was a deep, full-body shudder, a surrender. She swallowed with a satisfied sigh. "Where are we at? Twenty-one?"
"Haah..haah…"
He was struggling to breath, struggling to look at anywhere but the road ahead. If he didn't look ahead, he'd lose focus and pass out.
But now...
"W-w-we're here..."
The car rolled to a stop in her parking spot. The engine went quiet.
Rachel wasn't finished.
In the sudden silence, she looked up at him, her face a mess of smeared makeup and his creamy cum. She was barely recognizable with how many ropes had landed on her. Her dark eyes were blazing with victory and a deep, carnal hunger. She kissed the tip once more, the sensitivity spell at its peak.
"…llab eht ot htrow dna, esnes eht ekat…"
She then simply… breathed on it. A soft, cool stream of air.
It was the feather that broke the pizza guy's world.
He couldn't even shout. A broken, choked gasp was all he could manage as his body seized. The twenty-something release wasn't even a proper ejaculation—it was a slow, weak, almost seepage of clear fluid, the last dregs of everything he had. His hips bucked weakly against her face as she tenderly kissed the weeping head, lapping up the pathetic, final offering.
It was done.
Rachel slowly sat up. She used the sleeve of her elegant, ruined black dress to wipe her mouth calmly, a gesture both crude and oddly refined coming from her. There was still the rest of his cum, but, she didn't feel like removing it. She proudly wore the facials he gave her.
Rachel looked at the pizza guy. His pants were still open, his monstrous cock lying spent and soft against his thigh, glistening wetly under the parking lot light.
She smirked. A real, genuine, smug little smirk.
She opened the car door. For a moment, the pizza guy thought that was that. That Raven was gone. But no, she appeared by his window, knocking on it. The window rolled down on his own. Probably her magic. The dome light illuminated her satisfied expression. "Was the show good?"
His mind could only form one fragmented thought: 'Which show? Zatanna's or yours?'
"Y-y-yeah…"
Her black lips smiling and smeared in his cum, her eyebrows allowing a thick drool of white spunk down, to some, it may not have looked like Rachel's victory. But with how she pecked him on the cheek, it was most obviously was her win.
Zatanna thought she was going to be the one to occupy his mind. Zatanna thought she could ruin HER date.
Well, after this, sorry to say, but in her opinion, Raven won out.
Without a backward glance, Rachel walked towards the apartment building entrance, her hips swaying with a newfound, proud confidence in every step. The dark dress hugged the perfect curve of her ass as she moved, a final, tantalizing image before she disappeared inside.
The pizza guy sat in the driver's seat, in the dark, in the quiet. He looked down at his empty, sore, magically-sensitive cock. He looked at the vacant passenger seat.
'Good lord…'
After tonight, he learned not to underestimate chicks with magic.