Thirteen Nights of Loliween by Imouto Kitten Night 1: A Witch's Ritual As the young maiden, no older than 10 or 11 summers awoke, she felt a chill from head to foot, and glancing down at herself, realizes she is naked, her not yet budding breasts and immature curves fully exposed to the cool air of an autumn night. However, when she tries to cover herself, she finds her wrists and ankles secured to the stone upon which she lays by braids of silvery strands. Heart racing and nearly panicked, the girl takes in as much of her surroundings as possible from her prone position. She is secured upon a circular slab, smooth as polished glass and black as sable, forming a dais in the middle of a large, domed chamber. She can see thick lines carved deeply into the granite floor around the sable slab, though she can't make out the whole pattern from her vantage point. What she can see are several crystal columns, each seemingly made of a different type of gemstone and looking like they'd come to chest height on her short frame. They somewhat resemble the stone obelisk that stands as a memorial to the men of her village who are called away to fight in the king's wars never to return, but six-sided instead of square, and each topped with a flame matching the color of the crystal, like giant candles made of stone instead of wax. Not liking the implications of her surroundings, the girl starts thrashing in an attempt to free herself, crying out, "Where am I?!" "Finally awake, I see?" replies a voice seemingly from nowhere, the tone soft and tender, like a grandmother trying to calm a frightened child. Looking around, the bound girl spots a short woman, not much taller than the child herself approaching the slab, careful to not let the wine red robes draped over her lithe form to drag over the grooves in the floor. As the woman kneels over the bound girl, the child gets her first good look at the woman, long, silver hair, and a pretty, youthful face, but with skin that is unnaturally pale, nearly translucent. "My apologies if I frightened you, dear child." comments the woman, gently caressing the girl's cheek, "but people are often distrustful of that which they don't understand and I have long learned that it is often more expedient to ask forgiveness than to ask permission." "Who are you?" Asks the girl, somehow soothed by this woman's touch and words despite the woman clearly being the one who tied her to this slab. "Ah, names have power, child," replies the woman, "though there isn't much point in telling you mine regardless, my True Name being from a language ancient when the Latin the parish priests use in their sermons was young, and the name I used in this life will be discarded before the Hallowed Moon sets, and it will be your place to grant me my new name." "Huh? I don't understand." replies the girl, more than a bit confused. "I have lived dozens, if not hundreds of lifetimes, dear child." replies the woman, "and while the arcane arts have made this feat possible, there is only so much that can be done to extend the lifespan of a given mortal vessel. Despite my youthful appearance, this body has weathered well more than a hundred winters and I am due for a new one." Noticing the child still looks confused, the old woman replies, "Fear not child, I have chosen you, or rather I have chosen your womb to be the vessel for my latest rebirth, but I assure you the process will not harm you... in fact, if you allow it, the rebirthing ritual should be the most euphoric experience you've ever had." "Huh, what do you mean, my womb will be the vessel for your rebirth?" asks the girl as the woman sits cross-legged upon the glassy slab, and pulling a clay jar of ink and a small brush from the folds of her robes, starts to paint upon the child's abdomen. "Tell me child," says the woman as a black disc is painted upon the girl's belly, centered about her naval, "What do you know of the bleeding a woman experiences once a moon and how children are brought into the world?" "nothing much," replies the girl with a blush, "Mother just said that the bleeding meant a girl was not with child, and that a girl was old enough to be courted when she first bleeds and that it would be my future husband's place to tell me the rest." "I see," grumbles the woman, finishing with the disc and circumscribing it with an acute heptagram, followed by an obtuse heptagram, and finally a heptagon. Pulling the brush away from the diagram,which the girl suspects to be a smaller version of the one carved into the floor, the woman continues, "I had heard the people of this time like to keep young maidens ignorant of their own bodies, but I hadn't realized it had gotten so bad." Letting the ink dry and setting the ink pot aside, the woman explains, "For starters, your first bleeding shall come before the next new moon if nothing is done to prevent it and you are at this moment ready to accept a man's seed and bare a child. A man planting his seed in a woman's womb is the most primitive of rituals, and when performed properly, is incredibly pleasurable for both partners, though an overly aggressive man can easily hurt the woman, especially if she is young or it is her first time. My rebirthing ritual is a modification of the child creation ritual, and takes advantage of tonight being Samhain, or All Hallow's Eve as the Bishops have come to call it, when the veil between life and death is at its thinnest, and it being the Full Moon, when feminine magic is at it's most potent. 19 summers will pass before these two nights of power align once more. Before the woman can continue her explanation, a beam of moonlight shines down through a skylight capping the dome, illuminating the dais as the ancient being comments, "It has begun." Feeling a tingle near her naval, the child glances down to find that the black disc at the center of the diagram inscribed on her abdomen has gained a sliver of white at one edge, having transformed from a depiction of the new moon to one of the waxing crescent, the illuminated portion growing as more moonlight shines down through the glass capstone. At the same time, an indistinct mass appears in the air above the diagram, ephemeral at first, but growing more solid as more of the moon becomes visible overhead. When the full moon is fully visible through the skylight and the disc at the center of the diagram has turned fully white, the mass hovering above the girl's belly has resolved into a fleshy, reddish brown object shaped like a pear with a pair of strings connecting it to small, egg shaped objects. "What is that?" asks the child, fascinated by the unfamiliar sight. "Placing a hand upon the floating organ, the witch replies, "Dear child, this is your womb." as she caresses it, "Normally, it rests in your belly, right behind your naval, but I have channelled the power of the moon to allow me to summon it outside of your body so I may prepare it for what's to come." With that, she pulls another clay jar from her robes, and coating her slender hands in the sweet smelling cream within, starts to massage it into the child's exposed womb. "Normally, when a man plants his seed in a woman, the child to be starts out as but a tiny speck and will spend nine moons growing in its mother's womb until it is ready to face the world." as the witch speaks, the girl lets out a moan as the woman's caresses go from barely felt to being one of the most pleasurable sensations the child can recall feeling. "Also, a woman's womb normally isn't very sensitive. As I do not wish to spend nine moons between discarding my old form and being reborn, this salve will allow your womb to expand in one night as much as it would normally in nine moons, and has the added side effect of rendering your womb among the most sensitive parts of your body." As the woman says this, the child can barely hear her, writhing in new found pleasure upon the slab, her feminine folds glistening with girl juice and the tiny nipples upon her flat chest hard as diamond. Smiling down at the nearly senseless girl, the witch prods a finger at the girl's cervix, teasing the opening to the womb for several long seconds before plunging a finger all the way to the third knuckle, the girl seizing up as the penetration sends her into her first ever orgasm, liquid gushing from her girlhood to soak the slab. Letting the girl catch her breath, the witch asks, "Did you enjoy that, child?" "Th...that was amazing!" replies the girl,, still panting from the experience "Oh, dear child, I've barely started." replies the witch, withdrawing her finger to coat it and its neighbors in the cream once more before proceeding to finger the girl's cervix in earnest, first with one finger, then two, and eventually three. As good as having the outside of her womb massaged had felt, it was nothing to the overwhelming experience of having her cervix and innermost sanctum stretched and explored by the woman's fingers, and when the witch withdraws her hand and declares, "I think that's enough preparation.", the young girl isn't sure if it's been mere minutes or several hours, her faculties completely shot from all the wonderful sensation that had just washed over her. The child is barely aware of the witch shedding her robes and moving to kneel over the girl's face, only realizing the woman is as naked as the girl when she asks, "What do you think?" The woman is as slim as the girl had guessed with a modest bust and a narrow waist, the skin of her body as pale and blemish free as her face. But perhaps the most striking feature of the seemingly ageless being is the shaft protruding from where her thighs meet. "What's that?" asks the girl as she regains a modicum of her senses and notices the unfamiliar appendage. "This, dear child," replies the witch, giving herself a few strokes, "Is a penis. It is the tool men use to plant their seed within a woman. During the normal procreation ritual, a man will use it to part a woman's intimate folds," with this, she reaches the hand not stroking her shaft beneath its base to part her vulva, giving the girl a good view of her hidden hole. "and slide it in and out of the passage connecting the woman's womb to the outside world, a passage that later becomes the birth canal when the child is ready to be born until his seed spills forth from his tip." Moving between the bound girl's legs and rubbing her tip against the child's cervix, the witch adds, "Of course, with your womb outside of your body for the time being, I will be leaving your passage pristine, and since my intention is to be reborn through your womb instead of creating new life, I won't be giving you but a spoonful of my essence, but pouring the total sum of my being within your womb." And before the child can process the witch's words to respond,, the ancient woman has cradled the waif's womb in her slender hands and with a thrust of the hips, she buries her shaft in the hollow organ, both of them moaning in pleasure, the child from how the shaft fills her womb, longer and thicker than the witch's fingers, the woman from how the virgin's womb squeezes her shaft. "OH, dear child," comments the witch, savoring the sensation of being buried in the child's cervix, "your womb is quite warm and welcoming. I may need to sire several daughters upon you once my rebirth is complete." With that, the witch pulls back until the girl's cervix is clamped around the collar of her cock before driving back in and repeating the motion several times, each time drawing a louder moan from the girl's throat, but before long, the witch is done with the warmup and starts fucking the magically extracted womb in earnest, quickly working herself into a frenzy as the young girl thrashes in pleasure and her cries of ecstasy fill the dome. Despite her exertion, not a drop of sweat forms upon the witch's unnaturally pale skin, not even as her hands release the womb and follow along the strands to the girl's ovaries, gently cradling each lifemaking orb within a fist as the ancient woman uses them for leverage to fuck the child's cervix even faster. Lost in pleasure, the girl has no idea how much time has passed when the witch announces, "The time is near, I hope you are prepared to become my new mother, dear child!" before, with a last few thrusts, she hilts her cock in the child's womb, a long, nearly melodic moan coming from the witch as the child feels a warm, creamy substance that reminds her of freshly churned butter pour out inside her disembodied womb. But the witch's climax is no mere orgasm, her moan lasting an impossibly long time as she not only fills the womb choosen for her rebirth, but overfills it, the hollow organ expanding like bellows as her pale skin grows tight, body fat and muscle melting away as the witch's form becomes more skeletal, the intense pleasure from having her womb inflated by the witch's essence the only thing preventing the child from noticing the ghastly sight and being terrified. As the witch's moans give way to silence, her old body has become little more than skin and bones before crumbling to dust, leaving only her mane of silvery, silken lockes, and the womb she poured herself into has grown bigger than the girl it belongs to, the child's cervix having sealed itself as the cock plugging it, like the rest of the ancient being's old form, had faded away. Coming to her senses, the girl calls out to the chamber, "Hey, who's going to untie me now that you've vanished?" but the only response she recieves is the warm, indistinct mass bloating her womb to start moving, and before long, the child can feel tiny hands and feet, even smaller than her own, pressing against the walls of her womb, and can even see points where her womb bulges out from something poking her from within. And while this is nearly as pleasureable as what the witch did to her womb previously, it is nothing to the soul searing euphoria that washes over her as those hands find her cervix and stretch it open like someone stretching the mouth of a sack to fit something a bit too large to fit within. The small hands prying open the child's cervix are soon followed by a head with a mop of short, curly tresses in the same silvery color as the mane left behind and then the rest of the body of a much younger girl. As the reborn witch stretches in her new body, the summoned womb starts to fade, the moon in the diagram waning as the real moon passes out of the skylight. Recovering from the rebirthing, the bound girl gets a good look at what came out of her womb, the child looking more like the young children just old enough to roam the village without their parents than the newborns carried everywhere by their mothers, and while her skin is still pale, it no longer has the otherworldly quality it did before. Waving her hand, a breeze from nowhere cleans the reborn witch of the water of the womb as the discarded hair from her old body weaves itself into a simple robe. Donning her new robe, but leaving it open, the witch turns around, revealing she still has a penis every bit as impressive as the one found on her old body, and in a far more youthful tone, she addresses the girl, "Thank you, mother, for giving me such a healthy, new body... Now, let me repay you by showing you the affection a good daughter should show her mother." Crawling over the now taller girl, the tip of the witch's fleshy wand finds the new moon upon her mother's naval before sinking into it as though it was a hole instead of just a painting. As the bound girl moans as she experiences the same sensation as when the witch fucked her womb, her new daughter comments, "It takes the power of the Full Moon to draw out your womb fully, but now that the ritual has seared the diagram into mother's flesh, the new moon shall serve as a portal, letting me enjoy Mother's womb at any time while leaving mother's passage pristine... The Virgin Birth those Parish priests speak of really isn't that special, and I intend to sire many sisters upon mother without ever claiming mother's virginity... Oh, and while there's no rush, do be thinking of a name for me... after all, as my new mother, it is your right to decide what I will go by in this new life you have given me." With that, the reborn witch starts to gently make love to her new mother's womb through the magic portal, the girl finally succumbing to all that has happened this evening and passing out as her new child latches her lips around a nipple and starts suckling like a normal newborn would, the witch soon joining her new mother in slumber, her robe serveing as a blanket against the autumn chill.