The Spider Witch (Patreon)

It was Halloween, and the spider witch was out hunting. Dusk had fallen, summoning children to the suburban streets to seek out candy and mischief. Walking through them like a phantom, the witch sought out a more mature prey to feed upon. Soon enough she found what she was looking for, a home with a driveway full of cars and even more parked out on the street outside. The music blaring from within confirmed it to be a house party for adults. She approached the door, intent to invite herself in.

No one stopped her or even questioned her, too many were already drunk on punch and shots to care who came in, it seemed. Besides, she looked like she would belong, wearing a skimpy dress patterned with spider webs and spiders in black and white silhouettes with no underwear beneath it. Her black boots, spider web black stockings, and pointed witch hat could have been seen as a costume. However, this was just how she dressed. People would call her goth maybe, considering her dark makeup and pale skin, but this was not an affectation or a style, it was just an expression of her being. She would dress this way any day, but tonight it would be unremarkable, excellent camouflage for her hunt.

She sauntered through the party guests, unnoticed, creeping by without disturbing their conversations. Some were loud and boisterous, others were distracted by the opposite sex. The few men that glanced in her direction considered her briefly as an attractive sexual object, but she slunk by them, too ephemeral to hold their attention for long.

Soon, she found her prey.

A young man stood by the punch bowl, sipping from a cup, wearing only a comically large diaper fashioned out of a bed sheet. Hanging from his neck by a blue ribbon was an oversized blue pacifier. It was a costume, but a brief search of his foremost thoughts was how the costume was more than a joke to him. It represented a secret wish, a deep desire that he may not even be consciously aware of.

“Hello,” she said, greeting him, allowing herself to be perceived by him.

He looked at her, and she produced a glamor for him, adjusting her appearance to match his tastes. Her lithe body, thickened with matronly flesh, breasts swelling, ass and hips spreading out wide and heavy. He forgot propriety and stared at her new cleavage, hungrily.

“Thirsty?” she asked him, smirking.

“Uh,” he replied, recognizing how he had been inappropriately ogling her flesh. “Excuse me,” he said, turning his eyes back to the punch bowl.

“Would you mind filling me up a cup?” she asked.

He looked back and smiled nervously, possibly subconsciously sensing the danger she represented. Still, his attraction to her overrode any fear in him, and he prepared a drink for her.

***

They talked.

He clumsily attempted to flirt with her, and she played along, affecting good humor. There was no magic in this. Men were always easily fooled by even the slightest positive attention from a pretty woman.

He asked her name.

She searched his thoughts for the woman's name he held most precious to him.

She spoke it.

“That's my mother's name,” he said, smiling.

She smiled back and took him by the hand and whispered in his ear, just loudly enough to be heard over the music and the sound of the chattering crowd. “How about we find a quiet place upstairs to have some private time together?”

He nodded back to her, likely amazed at his luck.

She led him up the stairs by the hand, and he followed, fully bewitched now by her beauty and the implied promise of getting to know her physically.

No one was in the master bedroom, so they entered it, shutting the door behind them. She cast a subtle warding spell on it, one that would give people the impression that the door no longer existed, offering them privacy for what would come next.

She removed her hat and her boots and her dress, and he watched, the front of his costume diaper tenting out.

“Come to me, baby,” she said. “Come to Mommy.” She cupped her ample breasts together for him, enticing him to explore them.

He hesitated a moment, possibly doubting that he deserved this attention, but his lust overcame his caution and he dove into her invisible web, giving his body over to her. They made out, and soon his mouth had moved from her lips down to her nipples.

“Good boy,” she said, slowly draining his essence away, absorbing his body's size, inch by inch, transforming mass into magical energy. As he became smaller, she became more powerful, and the process accelerated.

He had been kneeling on the bed with her, but he soon had to switch to standing crouched on the bed, and then standing upright, having lost half of his body height and a majority of his mass. So intoxicated was he by her breasts that he did not notice his transformation until she pulled her breasts away from him and stood up from the bed.

Even standing on the bed, he found that he was more than a full head shorter than her now. He looked down at his diminished body and back up at hers recognizing how large everything seemed to him now.

“What’s going on?" he asked, his midget voice sounding comically high. “Why am I so small?”

She did not gloat. She did not mock. She did smirk a little, but only out of satisfaction for her meal. He was nearly drained. Still, she could take more, but only if it was given freely. Some gentle enticement would be all that was needed.

“My baby,” she said, cooing. “I can leave you like this, small and helpless, if you wish.”

“No!” he squeaked. “Turn me back!”

“Or,” she said, putting a finger on his lips to silence him. “I can transform you to give you back the body you once had, if you give your love to me.”

“My love?” he asked after she lifted her finger. “What do you…?”

She gazed down at his crotch and he looked down there as well to see his cock growing longer and thicker, swelling up like a fleshy circus balloon. Soon, it had exceeded twice its normal size and many times its normal sensitivity. Even the slightest touch of one of his fingers was almost enough to make him come. The growth stopped, and undoubtedly, he felt the weight and heat of it overwhelming his mind.

“Give yourself to me. Give me all of your love,” she said, laying down on the bed on her pillowy breasts and her knees, presenting her ass to him. “And, I will give you back the body you once had.”

Again, there was a final moment of hesitation. He undoubtedly sensed the web he was caught in now. However, there was no escape and much pleasure to be had if he tangled himself even deeper into this trap. Lust won, again, and he nearly leapt at the chance to poke his enormous cock inside of her.

They fucked. His cock filled her up just to the limits of her comfort, as she had designed, and he did as best as he could to make the experience last. Both of them gave in to the pleasure of the moment, enjoying their transformed bodies, feeling the pleasure of their connected flesh for a brief while. The power he had already given her was enough to put her close to orgasm, so when he quickly gave into his own orgasm, she joined him in the release of pure bliss.

He came within her, filling her up with his remaining essence, all the years of his life squirting into her one joy-filled spurt after another. So lost in pleasure was he then, that he did not notice his body transforming again, losing muscle and maturity, becoming softer and younger. His expanded cock shrank out of her, dwindling to its normal size and shrinking even further. When at last, he had expended all of his remaining adult energy, he collapsed onto the bed, on his back, feeling feeble and helpless, spent of all energy.

The witch lay on the bed as well, enjoying the feeling of absorbing his adulthood into the core of her being. She had drained him completely, and it felt wonderful, like having eaten the best meal of her life, feeling full to the point of nearly bursting. Meanwhile, the glamor had faded from her body, returning it to her regular lithe figure. Eventually, she looked down at the husk of what remained of the man.

Nothing but a toddler, barely old enough to stand up, was left. He lay there breathing, half-asleep as she went to the master bathroom to clean up. Once she had freshened herself up enough to leave, she returned to the bedroom and got dressed.

Then, she rummaged through the bike shorts he had been hiding in his bed-sheet diaper, locating his wallet and his keys, taking stock of what valuables she could collect.

“You,” he said, with a weak little voice. “You wied… to me.”

“Did I?” she asked, counting the cash in his wallet before slipping it into her small purse.

“You said… you'd tuwrn me back.”

“I said I'd give you the ‘body you once had,’” she said, smiling. “And, that is what you have now.”

“You twicked me!”

“Well, ‘tis the night for trickery, after all,” she lifted the costume diaper and pacifier from the floor, and they shrank into the real things, an actual diaper and pacifier. “Now,” she said. “Time for me to treat you to a trip home.”

He fought back tears as she put the diaper on him and poked the pacifier into his whimpering mouth. Then, leaving behind only his bike shorts, she exited the bedroom holding him in her arms, releasing the ward on the door as they went. Then, it was only a quick walk down the stairs and out the front door, and she had escaped into the night without anyone else knowing that her hunt was finished.

***

The toddler man sat in the front passenger seat of his car, worriedly trying to remain upright as the witch drove his car. He must have been wishing that there was a car seat to sit in, but the witch was enjoying his distress too much to conjure one up for him. Besides, they were nearly at their destination.

“You know,” she said, pulling onto the driveway of another suburban house. “This is not permanent.”

He looked up at her hopefully and sucked on his pacifier in response.

“You will grow up again normally… if you want.” She parked and got out of the car. Then, she walked around to the passenger door and collected him from his seat. “You could even grow up sooner, breaking the spell on you now… if you want it strongly enough.”

He sucked his pacifier more intently, clearly wanting that to happen.

“But,” she said. “I doubt you will. Could you really pass up this chance to be a pampered baby again?” She walked up to the door and used the key to the house to unlock it. “Mommy is waiting,” she whispered to him as she set him down on the floor of the foyer.

Then, she shut the door and locked it, leaving him sitting there sucking his pacifier.

By the time she was back in his car, her new car, a light had turned on upstairs. Soon enough, he would be found by his mother, now looking decades younger, thanks to the spell on him. (He had kept her key on his key ring, and the key had led the witch right to its lock.) His mother would no longer remember their previous lives and think that this was his correct age, as would everyone else they know.

The witch drove away and considered the catch of the spell. It would take a day or two for the magic to settle into the baby and his mother’s whole existence. During that time, he would have an opportunity to unravel the web of her spell. If he desired it enough, he could return to adulthood again, although in a drained and diminished capacity as a smaller and weaker man. It was possible, but the witch doubted it was likely. He had worn that costume for a reason, and she was confident that he would not pass up the opportunity to wear it for real again.

She drove now toward his apartment, knowing that there was still a long night ahead of her. There was much work to be done before the spell erased the last traces of his existence. She would need to locate his valuables: his watches, his jewelry, his electronics, anything that she could sell. The things that would disappear were the ones that were unmistakably his, such as his credit cards and debit cards. Something as general as cash would remain, so she made a stop at an ATM to make a max withdrawal from his savings account. His credit cards would need to be drained at jewelry stores the next day, where she might buy golden and silver trinkets that she could pawn or save for a rainy day. All told, if she were quick and crafty with her work, she might walk away with nearly six figures of income from this one night of feeding, definitely enough to last her another year until another hunt.

“Happy Halloween,” the well-fed spider witch said, counting her cash and then driving off into the dark of the night.