Barnabus gave a weary sigh as he eyed the rolls and rolls of unsold tickets stacked atop his desk. He’d known for a long time that his show was on the way out, but somehow the sight of all the unwanted tickets drove it home like a stake to the heart.
If he really tried, he could just about remember the good old days – back when a single ticket had been an invitation to endless wonder and people young and old had flocked to his show in search of the kind of magic only the circus could provide. Closing his eyes, he could still hear the gasps of the crowd as the trapezists had performed daring stunts right over their heads, the raucous applause when the strongmen lifted a dozen acrobats high with one hand. He could feel the buzz of excitement in the air, crackling over his skin like static electricity.
Back then the magic was the only thing that had mattered. But these days that magic had faded and the only thing keeping his show going anymore was wishful thinking and stubbornness. Now though, it seemed like even those couldn’t hold out any longer.
Without some kind of miracle, tonight would be his final show. It felt so wrong; all those years of Barnabus Hayward’s Circus of Wonder bringing joy to the masses, only for it to end on an overcast Wednesday evening with barely enough tickets sold to fill a small coach. But there was no escaping it. The money was gone. And if he was honest, his devotion to his trade had vanished with it.
The only small solace he felt was that there wouldn’t be many people to disappoint. Most of the performers had seen the way things were going and moved on months ago. By now the only ones left were a handful of the old guard and the odd recent hire. Including Barnabus, they totalled only ten. He knew they would be heartbroken to have to give up their passion this way, but he had no doubt they were well aware this day had been coming.
Barnabus glanced at the tickets again. Overcome, he buried his face in his hands. What he wouldn’t give for the chance to relive that circus magic for just one more night.
‘Mister Hayward! Mister Hayward!’
The flap of the tent was flung aside sharply and a frantic young man came stumbling in, his cheeks flushed red and his hair dishevelled.
Eric Flint didn’t look much like a lion tamer. He was skinny as a wire, pale as the dead and there was desperately little machismo about him, but that hadn’t stopped him forming a deeply affectionate relationship with the circus’ ageing lion, Zeus. It wasn’t as though the big cat was feral – he’d been hand-raised by Barnabus since being rejected by his mother as a cub – but Eric had earned his respect like no other and doted on the majestic creature as affectionately as if he were a housecat. The whip at Eric’s belt was all for show, of course – he would never have harmed a fur of Zeus’ great mane.
Barnabus stifled a groan as the lion tamer bundled in. ‘Please, Eric, I’m sure what you have to say is important, but I –’
‘Oh it is,’ Eric replied hurriedly, cutting him off. ‘There’s something I have to show you. You see, I know we’ve fallen on hard times lately. We can’t go on this way much longer and everybody knows it, so I wanted to do something to try and help. I’ve looked into everything I could think of – spells and charms and enchantments and all kinds of other sorcery; I mean, it only makes sense that reviving the magic of this place might take a little magic of our own, right? So anyway, I came across this old-timey article from way back in the day. It was about this troupe who were touring back in the eighteen-hundreds. They were like us, sir. Their audiences had run dry and they were ready to call their show off. But then something happened. They got popular again. Not just popular – they were the most sought-after troupe in the whole country! And I was thinking that that’s exactly what we need right now and –’
Barnabus held up his hand. ‘Eric, take a breath. Get to the point.’
The young man visibly struggled to contain himself, but he took a moment’s pause before continuing. When he did, he was practically trembling with excitement, his eyes wide and bright.
‘This is the point,’ he said, laying down a battered old hat on the ringmaster’s desk. ‘I tracked it down. It wasn’t easy, but I found it. This is the miracle we’ve been waiting for.’
The old man raised a sceptical brow. Time hadn’t been kind to the short top hat sat before him. The brim was bent and battered, the crown was torn in several places and the material, once glossy and sleek, was now dull and threadbare. The band was little more than a strip of frayed material, while the cluster of feathers on the side looked utterly forlorn.
‘What am I looking at here?’
‘It’s the ringmaster’s hat,’ he replied as if he thought the hat was the most impressive thing in the world. ‘This is what made the troupe popular again. At least that’s what everyone says. Nobody ever figured out how, but once the ringmaster started wearing this his troupe became the most wanted attraction anywhere they went. People couldn’t get enough of them!’
Barnabus stared up at him askance. ‘So?’
‘So try it on,’ Eric urged. He looked as though he was on the brink of hysterics.
‘And why would I do that?’
‘To save your show! To bring back the old magic! This is the answer to all our problems, Mister Hayward, I know it!’
Part of Barnabus wanted to throttle his lion tamer. And if it wasn’t for the fact he’d have a very unhappy lion on his hands if he did so, her very well might have gone through with it. Tonight was going to be difficult enough for him as it was – the last thing he needed was Eric frantically pestering him with stupid Hail Mary ideas. But then Eric had always been a little too impressionable for his own good and now Barnabus realised he should have seen something like this coming.
‘Eric, I know you want to help, but –’
‘Please, Mister Hayward,’ Eric interjected, and Barnabus was taken off guard by the vulnerable sincerity in his voice. ‘This troupe, this circus, it’s become my home. My family. I can’t just let it disappear. You always told me you believed in the magic of the circus. So please, for me, believe in this.’ He pushed the hat across the desk, his eyes imploring.
Barnabus gave a heavy sigh of resignation. He was in no mood to humour the young man, but he knew Eric wasn’t going to take no for an answer. Besides, once he saw that it was just a tatty old hat and nothing more perhaps he’d leave Barnabus in peace.
Donning the hat, he stared up at Eric. ‘There. See? It’s just a tired old…’
The ringmaster never finished his sentence. Instead, he simply let his voice trail off. He felt strange. A sudden warmth was blossoming through his core and he frowned as an unusual arousal began to overtake him. All at once he felt hot and horny and deliciously hedonistic, and he didn’t really care that none of those were anything like him.
‘Mister Hayward, are you okay?’
Eric’s voice was distant and indistinct. And though Barnabus opened his mouth to reply, he never managed it.
‘Oh my God,’ he gasped, the warmth within him suddenly igniting into an inferno. He surged to his feet, stumbling away from his desk as he was enveloped by blinding pleasure. Staggering this way and that, he almost careened into Eric, and though the lion tamer stepped nimbly to one side, Barnabus’ flailing hands closed over his whip and pulled it from his belt.
Oblivious to his surroundings, the ringmaster eventually took hold of a nearby mirror. To him, however, it looked like one of the mirrors from a house of fun, for his reflection was shifting before his eyes.
Glossy blonde hair was sprouting from his bald head, tumbling down into silky locks worn in a long ponytail fringed by tight braids tucked behind his ears. In those ears had appeared little diamond earrings, while his features had already taken on the seductive allure of a stunning young woman, all flushed lips, long lashes and large, mesmerising eyes. There was movement beneath the creases of his shirt as his slender frame filled out into sumptuous curves and a pair of fleshy breasts swelled into being.
All the while his attire was shifting to match the sultriness of his new figure. His trousers rose up to fuse with his shirt and form a black wet-look leotard which vanished in the cleavage of his expanding ass and hugged his body tight. His threadbare fingerless gloves unfurled into resplendent velvet evening gloves as dark as midnight, and his tatty old shoes swept up his shins to form knee-length heeled boots, the black material inlaid with countless sequins that glittered in a dazzling display.
Meanwhile, as though it had been revived by Barnabus Hayward’s transformation, the hat he wore was suddenly new again. The brim was pristine, the crown spotless, the material sleek and shiny, and the feathers stood as proud as the day they’d been plucked.
‘Oh yes,’ the ringmistress purred as the pleasure subsided. ‘Now that’s what I call magic. I’ve never felt so alive.’ She gave a soft moan and a mischievous smirk as she glanced down at her bare ass. ‘Fancy that – it looks like I’ll be the main attraction around here from now on.’ Slipping Eric’s whip under her cheeks, she used it to jiggle her ass with a naughty giggle.
The tent itself seemed to react to her excitement. All the dusty old furniture was refurbished in an instant. The fading lights flared back to life. The sun-bleached canvas of the tent brightened up. In barely a second the whole place was a riot of light and colour, imbued with that same joy it had held all those years before.
When she returned her attention to the lion tamer a wicked grin overtook her features.
Eric was stood slack-jawed with amazement. A devout believer in the magic of the circus, he had always felt certain that the hat was the answer to their troubles. But he had never expected this. Despite the fact it had all happened before his eyes, he could hardly believe what he was seeing. The woman staring back at him was the most beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes on and, despite the knowledge that Barnabus might still be in there somewhere, he couldn’t help the erection stirring in his trousers.
The ringmistress noticed instantly. ‘You know, baby, I think you were right. Pretty soon people won’t be able to get enough of us. Sexiness sells, and if you’re anything to go by I think we’re going to be very popular indeed.’
A fiendish expression crossed her face as she caught sight of the coat stand beside the door. The ringmaster’s coat Barnabus had worn for every performance since his very first show hung from it, the colours faded and the material thinning.
Snatching it up, she slipped it on. Just like the hat, the jacket was rejuvenated by her touch. In a heartbeat it was new again, the colours vivid and the material fresh. The cut changed too, reshaping to flatter the sultry figure of its new owner.
Eric’s eyes bulged. ‘I… I don’t understand…’
‘Oh that was just a parlour trick, pretty boy.’ She turned her eyes up to the hat. ‘This thing, it’s more than you ever thought it could be. The magic it holds, it’s all mine to use however I like. On whoever I like…’
Eric caught her meaning too late to react. She crossed the distance between them in an instant and all at once her luscious body was pressed against him. In the second before she kissed him he wondered if perhaps he’d gone too far, unleashed a power he should have left dormant. But then her lips were on his and her magic was coursing through his body.
Eric’s tits were the first thing to take shape. He groaned into the ringmistress’ mouth as they bulged out from his chest with a sudden ache of pleasure, stretching his shirt taut. Next to form was his ass, a large, fleshy rump that begged to be spanked even through his jeans. As the pleasure cascading through his changing body continued to mount, Eric took his lover’s face in his hands which were already soft and feminine, ignoring the sensation of his curled hair sweeping down into velvet tresses that brushed his shoulders. He could feel his features changing as he kissed her – his lips swelling larger, his lashes elongating to brush against her face – but it all seemed so trivial compared to the orgasmic ecstasy as supple curves overtook his figure. Almost as an afterthought, his pale skin tanned suddenly, shifting from porcelain white to burnished gold in a heartbeat.
Alongside his transformation Eric’s clothes were reforming too, and there was soon a noticeable theme to his new costume. Just like Barnabus’ had before, his shirt and jeans fused together into a skin-tight leotard which exposed his deep cleavage, though in Eric’s case the material broke out immediately into imitation jaguar spots. A faux tail sprouted over his ass and fell down to brush killer heels patterned to match his sexy bodysuit, while the bandana he wore solidified into a spotted cat ear headband and his gold chain necklace became an actual chain, a leash attached to a studded leather collar inlaid with fluffy fake fur. To complete the look, a thick black corset belt wrapped around his waist as if his enviable curves needed any more accentuating.
Despite the dramatic changes, the most intense was left until last. Throughout his transformation Eric’s rigid cock had been pressed flush to his stomach by the leotard, bulging against the material. Now it vanished almost instantly, shrinking so fast it was gone in a blink and replaced by tight slit dripping with arousal.
The pleasure tore a scream from her lips and eviscerated the last of her strength. Though she didn’t want to break their passionate kiss, she could not stay upright any longer and she slumped against the ringmistress’ chest, her body weak and trembling as she struggled to process the divine orgasmic bliss of her transformation.
Neither woman was quite sure if the way the lion tamer’s hands fell onto the ringmistress’ breasts was accidental or deliberate. Either way, she groped them eagerly, savouring the soft groans of pleasure the ringmistress gave.
‘Thank you,’ the lion tamer breathed, ‘thank you for filling me with your magic, ringmistress.’
‘Please, baby, call me Beatrix. And you… I think I’ll call you Erica. Well, in public, at least. In private, I’ll just call you kitten. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?’
Erica looked up at her, her deep eyes swimming with arousal. ‘Yes, mistress. I’d like that very much.’
Beatrix smiled, planting a soft kiss on the young woman’s brow. ‘I thought you might. Tell me, kitten, does your new body feel good?’
The lion tamer looked so horny she seemed close to passing out. She bit her lip and pressed herself against Beatrix a little harder. ‘So good. I feel so hot and naughty and sexy. I was nothing before. You made me better. You made me perfect. And…’ She paused, and when she spoke again there were nerves in her voice. ‘And you just called me kitten, mistress. Does… does that mean…’
‘That we’re in private?’ Beatrix finished for her. ‘Yes. Look around. It’s just you and me. And that means we can do whatever we want together.’ She felt Erica’s pulse quicken at her words, her whole body trembling with anticipation.
Erica’s next words were barely above a whisper, as though she was almost too afraid to say them. ‘So, what do you want us to do tonight, mistress?’
Beatrix smiled a wicked smile. Strutting over to a circular plinth she led Erica along by her leash. ‘Oh, I have plenty of plans for tonight. First, we’ll show the rest of the troupe the real power of circus magic. Then we’ll put on a performance nobody in this town will ever forget. And I have a very special job for you while we’re performing, too. After that we’ll take our show back on the road, only this time with a little added hedonism in every act.’
Reclining on the plinth, Beatrix closed her eyes, envisioning the future. She could see it now: Beatrix Hellstrom’s Circus of Sin drawing in filthy-minded crowds everywhere they went, spreading the magic of sex and seduction to endless hordes of deviants desperate for just a look at their nubile bodies and sapphic acts. She smiled blissfully: it was going to be so much fun.
However, that was the future. She had things to attend to in the present first.
Turning her attention back to Erica, she tugged on her chain to pull her onto all fours. ‘But right now, I want something much, much simpler. After all, we have plenty of time before we have to be on stage.’
Spreading her legs, she reached down to pull aside the crotch of her leotard. Her naked pussy twinkled bright – but Erica’s eyes shone even brighter. ‘I want my little kitten to prove to me that I made a good decision turning her into my naughty slut. Eat me out, kitten. Eat out your mistress. And if you impress me, I might even return the favour.’
Erica didn’t even pause to answer. Overwhelmed by her own carnal hunger, she simply dived between Beatrix’s thighs, buried her face in her sweet sex and promptly set about filling the tent with hot, wet, lustful sounds…
Thanks for reading!
As I mentioned in Fuck Like Hell, I appreciate that this isn’t exactly a Halloween-themed story – the circus isn’t haunted or cursed or demonically possessed – but when I was writing it it just kind of felt like it belonged amongst this month’s seasonal releases. And I have to say, regardless of how well it matches the Halloween atmosphere, I absolutely LOVE how this story turned out. I knew it would be quite a long one when I was writing it, but rather than release a massive long story all in one go as I’ve done before, I thought this particular story would work much better as a multi-part piece. The story itself broke down very naturally into three pieces, and I can’t wait until the others are out there for you to read. For the second part, be sure to come back on Wednesday and find out what Beatrix and Erica get up to once the show begins!
The models in this scene are Jessica Drake and Abella Danger. I’m not going to say much about either of them here since I’ll cover my thoughts on them when the final part of the story releases on Friday, so for now I’ll just urge you to check out their work if you can – they’re both well worth your time.
I would love to hear your thoughts on my work, so please leave me a comment!
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