Magic, you’ve come to find out, runs in the family. It skips people at random, which is why your mother was a normal mortal. And she tried to protect you from that part of your heritage for as long as she could. Not in the least because there is a dark side to it, as well. She meant well, but in doing so, she rendered you ignorant of your powers. Sure, that meant that you couldn’t go out of control, because magic requires precision and study, but it also meant that you never learned what the limits were.

Your mom passed away some time ago in a freak boating accident. Her, your grandmother, and your aunt. It doesn’t help that your dad is every bit as ignorant to magic as you are. But that doesn’t change the fact that as the next of kin, the two of you need to deal with the aftermath of their passing. You were the one that found the spellbook in your aunt’s basement, in a secret room hidden behind a false wall. At first you thought it was just some weird superstition, but when you tried out one of the spells for a lark and it worked, you realized that this was something else entirely.

So when you found the spell to give you the body you had always dreamed of, you jumped on it. And today is the day that you finally pull it off. You’re standing naked in the middle of the magic circle, just like the spell prescribes. The spell says something about rope bindings, but also mentions that preferably they won’t be used so you don’t bother with them. The only thing left is to light the candle. You strike a match. It blazes to life. You touch the wick with the flame and feel an intense tingling warmth spread out from your chest as soon as the candle flickers to life.

You can’t help but moan as you feel your muscles swelling, your stomach tightening, your ass getting bigger in your pants. You moan as your arousal grows, sharpening into an intense sensation that blanks your mind out with pleasure. You faintly remember the spell mentioning mental changes, but you don’t know what they are. And being ignorant of your abilities you did not even realize that the spell wasn’t meant to be used on yourself, but rather on a male that you wanted to subjugate and use as a sex slave.

By the time that the entirety of the spell resolves, you lay in the centre of the circle, a quivering mess, your hole twitching, your little cock leaking. You’re trying, struggling to think of anything but cock and cum, but your brains have all melted out of your head. All that you are now is horniness. Frustration. A desperate need to please and serve. You want someone else to think for you. Someone else to control you. But you can’t even begin to think of how to find someone.

Instead the powers intrinsic to your blood as a warlock calls out across the many worlds of existence. The smell of sulfur floods the room as a handsome devil manifests next to the magic circle. Seeing you on the floor, he laughs. He says something to the effect of "stupid warlock," though your ability to recognize language has degraded to such an extent that you can’t even understand that.

Seeing that you don’t have a master, the incubus snaps his fingers as a studded golden collar is affixed around your neck. A chain connects the collar to his hand. Then, with another snap of his fingers, the two of you disappear. Minutes later he has you bouncing on his impossibly big cock, fucking whatever remnants of your old self remain out of you.