Author: Sailbad
Title: A Charmed Life - The Change
Part: 2 of 8
Universe: Jharum
Summary: The life of a woman given a special gift which changed her 
entire existence. Youth ever-lasting with a hunger for semen. She 
learns the function of her special gift. 
Keywords: FM, mc, hist 

A Charmed Life
By Sailbad@storiesonline.org
Chapter 2 - The Change

Bess awoke the next morning to the rooster’s crow.  She was still lying 
on the stable floor but tucked in a fine cloak of velvet.  The last 
night’s encounter quickly popped into her memory and she bolted upright.  
She reached down and pressed her hand to the front of her dress over her 
sex.  Something felt strange; inside her; in her womb.  She struggled to 
her feet and found herself dizzy and very weak.

The stable boy, a half-wit, rushed into the stable and passed her.  
“Cheery day, Goody Bess.  Cheery day.”  

She looked about her for any trace of the mysterious lady from the dark.  
As she staggered across the courtyard she wondered if last night had 
really happened.  She had that cloak still wrapped around her but her 
mind was so dull and everything so difficult to recall.  It had to have 
happened, she had the cloak but the details were too hard to believe.  
She went to the privy to relieve herself and found to her horror the 
dried blood of her stolen maidenhead.  For deeply personal reasons she 
could not quite recall, she mourned the loss.  She reasoned the woman 
must have plied her with some kind of intoxicating brew and then took 
advantage of her.  

There was no time to delve on the injury.  She had her chores and duties, 
the house was waking and there would be hell to pay if she dallied.  She 
forced herself to rise against the heavy weariness and dizziness.  Sick 
or not, she had work to do.  She hung up the cloak and set about her day.

As the day passed and she set about her work her mind kept drifting back 
to the lady she had met in the night.  When she did, her hand always 
strayed to her lips as if trying to recreate that enchanting kiss.

The weary, dizzy feeling dragged on her and made even the easiest of her 
daily chores an enormous strain.  As the morning wore on, some new 
sensation arose from the midst of her sense of weakness.  It was a 
strange new awareness that was far too indistinct to really focus on, 
much like an itch she could not scratch.  If she tried her best to 
describe it, it was like having an extra hand but not knowing where it 
was.  She felt it most strongly when she wanted to touch an object to 
determine its texture.  It felt like she had an inner urge to use some 
more suitable appendage to feel with.  She dismissed it as a passing 
anomaly and tried to ignore it.

The feeling persisted, though, and by afternoon it started to become more 
distinct.  It seemed to come from her lower body; to be precise, from her 
womb.  She actually felt compulsions to press her hips against things she 
would usually test by touching with her hands, like the laundry drying on 
the lines.  As silly as it seemed, it felt to her like an urge to reach 
out with her womb.

It began to become alarming to her during the early evening when 
responding to this urge, she felt something move within her, within her 
sex.  What really puzzled her was not just the sensation of something 
moving within her but that she felt what the thing felt.  It was faint, 
at first, just barely noticeable but the more she concentrated on it the 
more distinct it became.  Eventually, at the time the evening supp was 
served, she felt absolute control over it.  If she willed it to push to 
the left it did so, she urged it to the right and it obeyed.  She not 
only felt pressure upon the left or right side of her inner sex, but she 
felt what the moving appendage within her felt, she felt the subtle 
intricacies and contours of her birth canal.  She felt it as certainly as 
her own tongue in her mouth.  She should have been frightened into shock 
and self revulsion at what that strange woman had obviously done to her 
but she was not.  Curiosity overwhelmed her.  She became hungry for an 
opportunity to examine herself and to test her yet unconfirmed suspicions 
and see the extent of changes in her being.

She got her chance after serving supper.  Excusing herself from the other 
servants she took with her a taper and secluded herself in the privy, 
lifted her skirts, sat down on the pot and held her open hand in front of 
her sex.  Following her same urge to feel and pressing outward with her 
new found sensory organ, she felt the pangs of pleasure as a firm 
presence slid through her birth canal.  Outward toward the mouth of her 
sex it pushed and she gasped aloud at what she saw.  Emerging in a sudden 
rush, a pinkish-red finger poked out from her hairy maiden’s nest.  It 
emerged the length of her middle finger and almost half again as big 
around, tapering to a point and wet like a tongue.  It was like the thing 
she saw emerging from the woman who loved her the night before.  The 
instant it emerged she felt a coolness like a draft on moist skin, she 
was feeling the sensation through the red finger.  The thing was of her 
own being!  She reached her hand to touch it and in joint ambition she 
pushed the finger outward and it met her hand.  She was astounded beyond 
fear, she willed the finger to feel its way over her palm.  She noticed, 
of course, the feel of the pointed finger wet in her hand but more acute 
was what sensations the strange appendage returned to her.  It was so 
finely sensitive as she bade it to deftly wrap around her thumb and rub 
gently over her skin.  She could feel with it the coolness of her hand, 
the smoothness of her nail, and even count the tiny ridges and swirls on 
the tip of her thumb.  

She marveled at what she could make the weird little finger do.  She 
pushed it out to its fullest length, stretching it out to nearly as long 
as her forearm, its girth filled her sex.  She gently stroked its length 
with her hand and shivered with delight at the rewarding sensation the 
tail returned to her.  Curious of its potential, she coiled it around her 
wrist and squeezed.  The grip was firm.  She balled it up within her 
palm, closed her fingers around it and then tried to push her fingers 
apart with it.  It was soft but strong and her fingers felt so course and 
rugged to its touch.  She tried to see what the tip could do.  She pushed 
apart two of her fingers with it and then pushed between them.  It oozed 
its own spittle to ease its passage, mostly from the tip.  She touched 
the tip to the tip of her finger and found she could spread the tip open.  
The tip flared out into a gaping mouth.  She opened it wide, wide enough 
to swallow three of her fingers and then engulfed one of them.  The long 
worm-like tongue slid down easily over her digit all the way to her 
knuckle.  She drew upon it and it suckled gently on her encased finger.  
In spite of the coarseness of her hand’s flesh, the sensations were very 
pleasurable to Bess and she was enjoying this unearthly new appendage 
very much when suddenly the door to the privy was jerked open.

“’ beg pardon, Goody Bess,” said the scullery maid as she quickly let go 
of the door and turned away.  

‘Impertinent wench,’ thought Bess, ‘I shall use her most sorely for 
that.’  The maid had not seen anything.  Bess had drawn in her protruding 
red tail before the maid had even poked in her head, so fast Bess could 
scarcely believe it was ever out.  Her temper cooled as she assured 
herself that she had not been discovered.  She quickly rejoined the rest 
of the house staff and rushed to finish her evening’s chores but she kept 
playing with that strange serpentine finger, testing its prowess, feeling 
its way inside her and outside her, tempting herself with its pleasurable 
possibilities, and stirring her curiosity with what it all meant.

When her chores were done, she begged her leave and set out as usual to 
meet the coach in front of the inn, just like she had done thousands of 
nights before but this time with a fine cloak of velvet around her 
shoulders.  As she approached the market square she slowed her pace and 
peered into the darkness looking for and hoping to find last night’s 
lovely lady.  She felt disappointed to not see her but pressed on.  At 
last she came to the inn and stood under the lamppost to wait for the 
coach.  Her aching weariness froze her in place and in the still silence 
she became part of the night.

Then, piercing the silence, there came a sweet voice from somewhere amid 
the dark shadows behind her, “I pray this night finds thee well.” 

Bess did not move, she almost expected the maiden to be there.  Through 
the numbness of her tired, overworked mind Bess felt comfort and joy to 
be joined again with the companion of her last night’s wanderings.  There 
were so many questions she wanted to ask and so many more feelings she 
wanted to share.  “Aye, good lady.  And thou as well.  I have brought 
thee thy cloak.”  Bess turned slowly to meet her companion, moving like 
in a dream.  She found before her the same beautiful young lass this time 
clad in the leather jerkin and woolen skirt of a simple servant like 
herself.

“’tis thine, sweet Bess,” said the lady stepping forward from the dark 
and taking Bess’ hands in her own.  “Thou hast many a question and I 
shall answer them all.  But soft, thou hast much to learn and I have much 
to teach thee this night.”

“Aye, dear lady.  I am yours.  What am I to call thee,” asked Bess, 
relieved to find compassion amidst all her wonder?

“Thou might call me Kate,” she offered, smiling and stroking Bess’ cheek. 
  
“Well met, Kate,” said Bess and they hugged each other warmly.

It was Kate who pulled back and bracing Bess by the shoulders said, 
“There is no time to tarry.  I will resolve thy questions when leisure 
suits us.  Now, thou must do exactly as I bid thee for thy need is dire 
and thy time very short.”

Bess was alarmed by Kate’s tone.  “What must I do, friend Kate,” she 
pled?

“Prithee bide thy tongue and attend me.  We must feed thy hunger ere 
dawn,” said Kate and she led Bess away by her hand at a quick pace.  

They wove their way carefully through town by way of dark alleys and 
backstreets, cautious to avoid the town crier and the watchman.  At last 
they came to the back stable of the blacksmith’s shop.  Kate produced a 
key and employed it on the lock.  Bess began to protest but Kate warned 
her to silence and pulled her in through the door telling her quietly, 
“We come to steal naught but dreams.”

Bess was in dire fear of the jailor for this mischief but she followed as 
Kate led her to the loft above the smithy where they found the blacksmith 
sleeping soundly on his pallet.  “Behold, his head is clouded with strong 
drink.” said Kate, “He frolics at the banquet of Bacchus and shall not 
waken.  Come, assist me.”  

In spite of herself, Bess helped Kate seize hold of the prone man’s hose 
and pulled them down to his ankles.  Kate lifted the man’s blouse up to 
his chest, baring his manhood.  Bess was shocked and embarrassed but she 
kept her silence and waited for Kate’s instructions.  

Kate pulled Bess to the bedside and then stepped behind her.  She bent 
down and took hold of Bess’ skirts and lifted them up to her waist.  
Confused, Bess stood still and let Kate lead their actions.  Kate then 
reached her hands around Bess’ waist and cupped one hand in front of 
Bess’ sex while the other hand gently stroked her hair, lightly teasing 
her.  “Pish my sweet, render thy jharum,” Kate whispered. “Come-come, 
good maid.  Meet thy friend’s hand.”

Bess didn’t know what she meant at first but then put all of the strange 
pieces of this puzzle together and realized that she wanted her to bring 
forth her new pink tail from within.  Bess reasoned no one should know 
more of its presence and purpose than Kate and she obligingly pushed her 
sensitive new organ out into Kate’s waiting hands.  Bess was delighted by 
Kate’s touch.  Kate’s hands were soft and tender and she plied them with 
expert control.  Bess was quickly lapsing into a lustful disposition, 
orchestrated by Kate.  Bess grappled with the loving hands, enjoying 
their pleasure-inducing ministrations.  She entwined the fingers, rolled 
and twisted the surface of her red, tongue-like appendage over the gentle 
digits.  The moist, slick, nubile rope of flesh made obscene plopping and 
slurping noises as it tangled and wrestled with Kate’s fingers.  Kate 
indulged her and used her hands to push Bess close to her rapture.  And 
it came, an overwhelming climax that made Bess weak and nearly swooning 
to the floor.  Kate held her firmly and soothed away the tumult with 
tender kisses and soft words.   

When Bess had sufficiently calmed down Kate whispered in her ear, “Kiss 
him, Bess.  Bind his lust to thy will.”

Bess was again confused but she remembered Kate’s kiss from the night 
before and the effect it had on her.  She understood she was to now do 
the same thing to the sleeping blacksmith.  She bent over the man who 
smelled strongly of barley and mead and kissed him deeply, pushing her 
tongue into his mouth.  Kate moved with her, her hands still entwined in 
Bess’ coils, coaxing her onward.  

After some time, Kate pulled Bess upright and Bess was surprised to see 
the blacksmith’s member swollen, elongated, and lying stiffly over the 
man’s belly.  Bess was mesmerized by the organ, it was quite substantial.  
An intricately contoured pole of flesh spanned by many dark, swollen 
veins yearned eagerly in the dim light.  Kate pushed her by her hips, 
forcing her onto the bed and over the smith’s body.  She kept directly 
behind Bess, following her every move like a dance.  Bess followed Kate’s 
direction until she was straddling the man, kneeling with her sex 
directly over his.  Kate freed one hand from Bess’ tangling grasp and 
reached down to the man’s erection and held it upright.  She enclosed her 
other hand around Bess’ slippery tail and pulled it outward, seeking its 
tip.  She found it and poised it over the erection in her other hand.  

She whispered again in Bess’ ear, “Open Bess.  Seize him.  Swallow him.  
Take him in, deeply.”

A curious wonder seized her, Bess knew what to do.  She opened the mouth 
of her new appendage and closed it entirely over the standing man-flesh.  
It felt wonderful, even more wonderful than Kate’s hands.  It was so soft 
and smooth to her touch.  She wanted more of it.  She wound several coils 
around it to sense more of its delicate texture.  Kate removed her hands 
and Bess slid her coils up and down the shaft.  It felt so good.  The 
intense pleasure was chasing her to another extreme sensory explosion.  
She pumped her coils up and down a few more times, moistening its length 
and alternating her grasp to expose more of her tender flesh to his.  
Another small climax tore through her and if not for Kate’s firm embrace 
she would have fallen upon the sleeping man.

The blacksmith’s hips began to thrust upwards as though plunging himself 
against a randy maid’s loins.  “His crisis approaches, Bess.  Thou must 
receive his seed,” said Kate urgently in Bess’ ear.  Bess began pumping 
her coiled grasp up on him.  She spread the coils to grip his manhood all 
the way to its base and smearing copious amounts of her tail’s slick 
fluid over him.  She twisted and alternated her grasp on him, enjoying 
both the feel of his flesh and the touch of her own. 

Suddenly, the man gave a strong lurch and froze still.  Bess could 
distinctly feel the head of his member swell slightly and then a welling 
of fluid within the maw of her tail pressed over it.  It was his release.  
In that brief instant Bess experienced a man’s climax like few women ever 
had.  Within her new appendage, using its vastly superior sensitivity, 
Bess measured his emission.  She felt its volume, its temperature, its 
texture, and its weight.  In the next second she felt a second spurt to 
join what she had collected, then another.

Before she had too much time to toy with her new gift, Bess felt Kate’s 
fingers around the base of her appendage.  Kate’s finger tips touched 
lightly around the tail and then pulled gently toward her sex as if to 
coax her.  Kate said, “Partake, Bess.  Drink his seed.  Swallow it deep 
into thy womb.”

Slightly dumbfounded, Bess did as she was asked and sucked the pooled 
fluid up her tail.  It felt delightful as she gulped it up around all the 
coils and then with one big pull she squeezed it inside her and felt it 
pass into her inner self.  Once consumed it was like a cool draught of 
water on a parched throat.  It was soothing, satisfying, almost like a 
dispelled fast.  

Kate held her close and laid her head on Bess’ shoulder.  The room got 
still and quiet. As her passion ebbed, Bess used the time to take 
inventory of her situation.  She was in the arms of a beautiful woman, 
crouched over the naked loins of a sleeping man in whose house she had 
trespassed.  She could scarcely believe it, but then everything had been 
unbelievable since she had met the mysterious young Kate.  To her dismay 
she was not afraid, she trusted Kate’s judgment to protect her. 

The smith’s erection was slowly shrinking and he began to snore.  Kate 
was the first to move.  She began to tenderly stroke and caress Bess’ 
tail.  Bess responded, she relinquished the man’s wilting manhood to 
engage Kate.  Kate worked her masterfully while Bess drew the mouth of 
her groping serpent over Kate’s thumb and gently suckled it.  They 
enjoyed their play a few minutes, Bess’ passion climbed again to a level 
of hungry lust.

“We are not yet through with yond stout giant, Bess,” whispered Kate.  
“Give him thy kiss, ply him once more to thy dance.”

 Bess understood exactly what to do this time.  She bent over the man and 
gave him her deep, intoxicating kiss.  She pulled her snake-like tail 
free from Kate’s hands and then she stroked his manhood with it, testing 
his response, waiting for his return.  She kept her lips locked to his 
while she coiled around his quickly swelling member.  When he was 
completely ready, she caught hold of his tip with hers and enveloped it.  
She undulated her appendage around his length, slathering it with her 
slick fluid, enjoying the delightful contact until the time was right.

She raised herself upright into Kate’s embrace.  Her red tail slowly 
swallowed his entire length like some skinless snake devouring its prey.  
With every little margin she engulfed she was treated to even greater 
pleasure.  Deeper and deeper, more and more of her finely sensitive flesh 
was exposed to such divine joy.  She swallowed it up until the entire 
exposed portion of her length had engulfed him and the mouth of her 
serpent was bunched up around his manhood’s base.  Kate’s hands were 
still under her skirts and she was using one to lightly stroke up and 
down the surface of Bess’ gulping serpent while the other hand sought the 
tender button of flesh at the top of Bess’ cleft.  Bess really did not 
need any encouragement but she reveled in it just the same.  A huge 
climax overwhelmed her before she could prepare.  She grunted as it took 
hold of her, wave after wave of pleasure, sapping her strength and making 
her quiver throughout.  

Undaunted, Bess pressed on to greater rewards.  She had crouched down 
over the smith until she was on her hands and knees, using all of her 
strength to hold herself up, her mind completely consumed by the 
influence of this tremendous pleasure.  She had enough presence of mind 
to keep her tail sliding slowly up and down on the man’s shaft as she 
gently squeezed it in varying rhythm.  Her breathing became shallow and 
desperate.  She trembled from the strains of her ordeal and the grip she 
maintained on the prone man’s member became a spastic torrent of twitches 
and pulls.  She was determined to capture her bliss one more time and 
bring her captive with her.

Kate, now kneeling beside her, noticed her struggle. She stroked Bess’ 
hair aside and whispered in her ear, “Kiss him, sweet Bess, and receive 
his reward.”

Bess bent down her head and planted another deep kiss on the man’s mouth 
and he immediately began to lurch his hips at her.  Then came his 
expression.  Bess felt its approach from root to tip.  She felt a throb 
go through his shaft, bigger than the surge of his blood.  It started 
down low, pushed its way through and end with a great push of fluid at 
the end where Bess held him deep within.  She sucked it in, pulled it in 
all the way up her length, gulped it into her body.  As soon as she felt 
his fountain shoot within her a tremendous climax took her whole.  Her 
body went rigid, the feeling was so intense she felt like screaming.  Her 
body shook and quaked, the only muscles she still controlled were the 
ones that sucked his emission into her womb.  She sucked until there was 
absolutely no more.

Kate caught her from falling, picked her up and held her fast.  It took 
her a while to recover and when she did she found herself still crouched 
over the blacksmith, cradled in Kate’s arms.  It was such a soothing, 
peaceful calm that followed her storm.  And she particularly enjoyed 
Kate’s tender but firm embrace.  Again all was silent in the room.  The 
blacksmith’s member slowly shrank as did Bess’, they reluctantly let go 
of each other and fell limp.  Bess’ mind was lost in confusion but she 
trusted herself to Kate, whose guidance was now crucial.

Kate let Bess rest a spell but when the blacksmith’s snores became loud 
and long she gently shook Bess’ shoulders and whispered, “Come, Bess.  We 
must get thee home.”  She helped Bess climb off of the smith and together 
they pulled up his hose as best they could and tucked down his shirt.  
When he was settled, Kate took Bess by the shoulders and sat her down on 
the bedside before kneeling in front of her.  She parted Bess’ knees and 
lifted her skirts.  Bess’ tender, new organ dangled weak and shriveled 
between her thighs.  Kate gathered it up in her palm and pushed it firmly 
against Bess’ sex.  “Thou must draw it in, Bess.  Keep it warm against 
the chill night air,” she said quietly but with some urgency. 

Bess tried to comply but with some difficulty.  The thing was bloated and 
swollen from its travails and weak from its tumult.  Bess herself was 
still recovering from her arduous strain.  Kate helped by applying gentle 
pressure with her knowing hands.  Bess felt warm compassion toward Kate 
at that moment.  She felt grateful for this gift and, surprisingly, for 
the fruits of this daring adventure.  “Wilt thou give me thy kiss, good 
friend Kate?” she asked, wanting merely to bond with her more than any 
pursuit of pleasure; a moment’s cheer for her fearful heart.

“I dare not, sweet Bess.  I must keep my wits about me yet this night,” 
replied Kate.  She patted Bess’ cheek.  They had nearly gotten Bess’ tail 
completely retracted, Bess would have to satisfy herself with that 
intimate contact alone.

“This,” said Bess, “This is the gift thou hast given me?  This is the 
Charm of which you spoke?”

“Jharum.  Aye, Bess.  ‘tis mine no more.  ‘tis thine,” answered Kate with 
a hopeful smile.

“As thou hast told me, it gives eternal youth,” queried Bess?  The 
complicated riddle was quickly solving itself, astonishing Bess with how 
easily she was grasping it all.

“Aye, Bess.  By the taking of a man’s seed,” answered Kate.

The two peered deeply into each other’s eyes for a long moment and Bess 
grappled with a new mystery.  “Dear Kate, why wouldst thou part with such 
a gift,” asked Bess with a note of concern on her voice?

“I will tell thee at another time,” said Kate. “Now, we must be gone.”  
She stood up and helped Bess to her feet.

Bess noticed very distinctly, the pressing weariness she had fought all 
day was gone, as too was her dizzy head.  In fact she felt, to her 
amazement, quite fit and vigorous.  She collected her cloak and they 
quietly crept down the stairs and to the door.  Kate peered out carefully 
and listened.  When she was sure all was clear she drew Bess out behind 
her through the door and then reset the lock.  After another cautious 
trek through alleyways and courtyards they made their way back to Bess’ 
master’s stable. 

On the way home the gravity of what she now possessed began to weigh upon 
Bess.  This jharum, or Charm as Bess called it, truly was precious.  Kate 
had shrugged off eternity in exchange for mortality; Man’s greatest fear.  
Why?  Kate had forsaken immortality and bestowed it upon Bess, a complete 
stranger.  It begged so many questions of why but Bess could not draw 
them into a single line of query.  “How long had thou the Charm, Lady 
Kate?” asked Bess, which was all she could think to say.

“I know not for certain,” came Kate’s reply after a long thoughtful 
pause.  “’twas many hundreds of years ago.  Thou would not recognize this 
land nor the people I was born into.”  Her brow furrowed as if recalling 
something painful.  “‘twas a hard time, coarse and mean.  ‘twas a time 
even before the Saxons.”

Bess had no idea how long ago that was but she surmised it to be very 
ancient.  “Why wouldst thou relinquish a life thou hast held on to for so 
long,” she asked?

Kate turned her back to Bess and stood very still.  “That is for another 
time,” she said.  “Thou must rest.  I will meet thee again on the morrow.  
Sleep well.”  She walked away into the darkness leaving Bess very 
concerned.  It was either an answer Kate did not want Bess to have or one 
Kate was pained to discuss.  Bess decided not to press, surely Kate must 
have her reasons and they would certainly reveal themselves in time.


By Sailbad@storiesonline.org

  
Charmed2