magic

Enna was blessed to a degree most other wind elves would be envious of: Platinum hair and smooth bronze skin, a soft figure with full, wide hips and thick thighs, all of which was utterly dwarfed by her breasts.  Enormous by any standards, let alone elven, they were easily more than double the size of her head, hanging down to her navel.  They spilled out between her fingers when she cradled them in her hands, with just enough sag to emphasize their softness and weight while still keeping a pleasing roundness.  She was the envy of many, but she had problems appreciating that

Abbie knew she should not be here. Students of the New York Academy of Magic were never allowed in the lower floors of the building unsupervised, much less in the restricted Transcripts Room in the middle of the night. In the petite, auburn-haired girl’s hand was a transcript forged to more ‘accurately’ reflect her academic ability; her grades were just below that of her despised rival Natalie, which was, of course, unthinkable. “If they won’t recognize my excellence,” Abbie thought, “then I’ll do it for them.” She pocketed the forgery and went off in search of her records.

The Great White Witch was hung from the wall by a sickly red dark magic. Her long red hair falling in front of her face. Her brilliant white suit now sullied with dust and scuffs. A smell of ashes and brimstone hung in the air. Her grey eyes fluttered open, still woozy from the force of The Abominable Warlock’s energy beam throwing her against the wall. Menacingly, The Warlock cloaked in black and red, skulked towards her, his eyes furious glowing Rubies and his platinum locks trailing behind him.

“No, this can’t be the end!” She wept aloud. “Everyone was counting on me!”