Wizard Apprentice: Potion Gone Perverse

Potion Gone Perverse

"And don't touch my cauldron, Jonathan!" shouted the Wizard from the bottom of the tower and shut the door.

"It's Jon!" muttered the sixteen-year-old to himself, flicking his black hair out of his eyes indignantly, then called back "of course not!"

But using the cauldron is exactly what he intended to do.

In the past year since he had apprenticed to the Wizard he learnt to appreciate his alone time. At the time he thought being would be cool and would make it easy for him getting laid, but a year later, still a virgin and not allowed to cast spells unsupervised, he waited eagerly for every opportunity to be alone and try either. Or both.

Jon hurried back to the top storey of the tower, where all magic was being conducted, and began to rummage through the bookcase - which took an entire wall. There, between 'Unruly Spirits - Manual to the Novice Exorcist' by Elymas the Mage and 'Unnerving Augury - When the Entrails Show the Worst' by Vegoia Melampus Cassini the 9th, he found the book he was looking for.

'Unrequited Love - A Collection of Potion Recipes for the Lonely Witch or Wizard' by Laverne de Montmorency.

He slapped it with a loud thump on the podium and leafed hastily through the thick, yellowing pages, looking for a new potion to experiment with.

"Potion #8: For Flesh-Like Feelings - ah, no," he muttered, "we don't have Pygmalian Marble. Let's see... Potion 69: Remedy to Recover Vigour - ha, as if!" His vigour was fine, thank you very much. In fact, the mere though of his nearing escapades brought the lad to half-mast. He carried on searching, until he finally reached Potion #143 for 'Sensual Sensations and Tingling Titillation'. It seemed perfect.

Jon gathered the required ingredients, lit a merry, blue fire under the cast-iron cauldron, and carefully read the instructions.

'1. Doff all your garments'. He shed his forget-me-not blue robes quickly, socks and pants to follow, leaving him stark naked. He of average height, slim but not without some definition, and quite smooth.

And the sheer nudity excited him. His prick hardened and jutted up from a patch of thick, dark curls, and he gave it a surreptitious tug before returning to the instructions.

'2. Fill cauldron with 17.5oz of pure Spring Water and bring to a boil.

3. Whisk in three beaten Ashwinder Eggs. The potion should turn deep-burgundy in colour'.

The black-haired teen broke the crimson eggs into a ceremonial bowl, beaten them with a silver spoon, and whisked them into the boiling water. The liquid took to the shade of wine.

'4. Add 7 Rose Thorns and stir clockwise 7 times after each, then once anticlockwise after all thrones are in. The potion should be vermilion-coloured.

5. Let simmer on a low flame for 7 minutes exactly.

6. Add 5 chopped Red Amaranth Roots. Stir clockwise 5 times after each, then once counter-clockwise at the end. The potion will take the shade of Pink Flutter Bush flowers.

7. Mix in half an ounce of Powdered Moonstone, coarsely crushed, and stir clockwise once.

8. Sprinkle the fine dust of one White Pearl, and stir anticlockwise until the liquid becomes the lightest of pinks.

9. Cast 'Erectusempra' on the potion, and it is ready'.

"Erectsempra!" called the youth, and a pink lightning burst out of his wand. The potion changed from pink to cloudywhite, and Jon plunged a beaker in it. As he gulped the warm draught, he began reading the notes under the potion.

"Not suitable for Animal Use. For External Use Only. Caution: Combustible Material - Do Not..."

But Jon's Johnson, which deflated somewhat while concocting the potion, reared its head, and his mind started to wander. Uncut cock rigid, body tingling, and mind full of every filthy image his memory could recall, Jon was in bliss. He dropped down to the shaggy carpet, limbs sprawled wide apart, and slowly humped the air as memories filled his head.

The modest, perky breasts of the milkmaid he once saw when he walked in on her "by mistake", the small pink nipples erected by the cold autumn air. The luscious, curvy thighs of the girls he spied on showering in the river. The generous, round arse the barmaid showed through her skin-tight skirt every time she bent down; she was the reason he tolerated accompanying the Wizard to the pub, as he didn't allow Jon to drink.

The slim lad was nearing his climax when he recalled a certain event. It was night, he was returning from the Apothecary with a bag of potion ingredients, and a streetwalker stopped him. His dick immediately said yes, but his wallet was empty and the Wizard was waiting in the tower, so he had to decline. And then, to his amazement, the harlot lifted her skirts and rubbed herself in front of his very eyes.

He had only a glimpse of her delicate fingers massaging the smooth, moist labia, but this glimpse stayed with him. Oh, how many times he has spilt his seed over that glimpse that night. Or indeed, almost every night since.

His rod was straining, his balls tightened, and he was ready to cum. And just as he was unloading with loud grunts of pleasure, a deafening explosion was heard, and something wet touched his face.

BOOM.

Jon's eyes flew open and he looked around wildly. To his horror, the worst thing that could have ever happen just did. The cauldron exploded.

Punctured and twisted, the charred remains of the iron cauldron lay in the blue flames, and drops of the potion had splashed everywhere. Jon could see Unrequited Love opened on Potion #143. Between the pearly splodges, was the caution he so carelessly ignored. 'Caution: Combustible Material - Do Not Overheat'.

Cupping his shrinking hardon with one hand and wiping the spray of thick potion off his face - or that is what he hoped it was, he took in the carnage in the workshop and said.

"Well, shit".