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    Wiccan
    Wiccan
    Wiccan
    Ebook100 pages1 hour

    Wiccan

    By JM Ross

    ()

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    About this ebook

    A (sort-of) Halloween story...

    Alex inherited an old mining town hidden deep in the Rocky mountains. Long before he was born, his mother had organized summer gatherings for her fellow witches up there. The story opens as he's preparing to open the town for the coming summer conclave.

    Three exerts from Wiccan...

    Exert #1

    I have to stop here and explain that my Uncle Ted is a warlock and equally so, my Auntie Ursula is an actual witch. (Although, I need to admit that she's a little on the exotic side even by witch standards.)
    And you might ask, "Exotic? When I'm already talking about the occult and witches and warlocks, what could be more 'exotic' than she?"
    Well... There are powers that even a prudent person of the mystical arts will refuse to meddle in. I grew up with these forces lurking just beyond the veil of my little naive life. As a child, I'd seen powerful people use those forbidden powers. Sometimes, they produced miraculous events and sometimes disaster.

    Exert #2

    My mother began these events in the 1930's during Harry Houdini's occult phase and in the middle of the depression. This was an opportunity to get away from the hucksters, the wanna-be witches and the more seamy side of the profession. When she died a few years back, I simply let the tradition of the gatherings continue.
    The family compound is an old mining town high in the Rockies on a small plateau. In the 1920's, mom purchased the derelict land from the state. The mines and the logging had long since played out and no one wanted to live in such a remote place. It came complete with houses, a hotel and an array of storefronts; all in reparable condition.
    The only way in and out was by plane or broom (and no one uses a broom any more) or the old mining railroad. Through out the summer, we use the railroad to bring in supplies.
    There's no telephone or cell phone service and our electricity comes from an old war surplus generator. (When it works.)

    Exert #3

    I ran my hand over the huge mound of my middle. Bailey was right. It didn't feel so strange this morning. (Although, being a woman now and pregnant at that was certainly strange enough.)
    While still lying there, I raised a leg in the air and then the other. Damn, I had inherited pretty legs. Although, they weren't as long as what I'd been used to, they were smooth and shapely. That is until my hands got to my rear. There, my legs expanded more than I would have expected. I guessed that I was going to be condemned to having a fat butt for the duration.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherRoss Publishing
    Release dateOct 17, 2021
    ISBN9781005810368
    Wiccan
    Author

    JM Ross

    I love it when my protagonist finds her body contending with an intimate partner or a force that will change her forever. What is she thinking as she looses control of her sexual desires or her body or both? Did she want this to happen? Has it gone too far? Does she like it? How will it end? Will it end? The line between fantasy and reality is sometimes so very, very thin and I adore stepping into fantasy and staying there as long as I can. Love JM PS... If you'd like to see what's coming, click on favorites and Smashwords will keep you updated.

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      Book preview

      Wiccan - JM Ross

      Wiccan

      Smashwords Edition

      by JM Ross

      Copyright 2021

      This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this ebook with other people, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. This ebook remains the copyrighted property of the author and may not be reproduced, scanned, or distributed for any commercial or non-commercial purpose without direct permission from the author.

      This ebook is a work of fiction and the characters are purely productions of the author's imagination and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. All characters in this work are 18 years of age or older.

      Adult Reading Material

      Friends: For a complete listing of my work, come to my tiny website at...

      http://www.jmrossauthor.com/

      Or see my work on Smashwords at... https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/JMRoss

      Or join me on Twitter at... @JMRossAuthor

      I hope you enjoy.

      Love

      JM

      ~~~~

      Chapter 1

      After World War II, my mother bought a war surplus C-47, better known as the Navy version of a DC-3 cargo plane. The difference was that the cargo version had a double-door in the rear to accommodate large items. However in this case, my mom's intent was to accommodate her sister Ursula who's weight could range anywhere between three hundred and six hundred pounds, depending on Ursula's mood.

      Although the DC-3 could fly over the Rockies with one of the two engines out, mom had put additional care into the preparation of the plane. Every part of the old plane had been examined and refurbished and more. Among other things, she had soundproofing installed in the new forward passenger compartment along with a custom double seat set over the wing that was big enough to accommodate my Aunt Ursula at her largest.

      When a flight was being planned, the first thing that the pilot would always ask was whether my Auntie would be coming along and if so, how much she weighed this time. Then he'd arrange the rest of the weight load accordingly.

      I parked in my usual spot on the tarmac. The two Pratt and Whitney engines were already warming up. At a thousand horsepower each, they were both deafening and damned intimidating.

      When my mother died, I'd decided that I would keep this old plane as long as I could get parts for it. The runway on the estate (now my estate) wasn't very long. It was perfect for the DC-3 (among other planes). The height of the surrounding Rocky mountains make it impossible for most modern jets (even many ordinary planes) to fit. So, my tough old DC-3 is still the perfect choice.

      Uncle Ted would be coming this year. Recently, he'd declared that he had retired his broom in favor of his new purchase, a 1960 de Havilland DHC-2 Beaver fitted with wheels. For those that don't know, a de Havilland Beaver is an old overhead wing airplane that was commonly used by bush pilots in Alaska. You've probably seen one with huge floats in some old Alaskan adventure movie or in promotional photos of Alaska.

      I have to stop here and explain that my Uncle Ted is a warlock and equally so, my Auntie Ursula is an actual witch. (Although, I need to admit that she's a little on the exotic side even by witch standards.)

      And you might ask, Exotic? When I'm already talking about the occult and witches and warlocks, what could be more 'exotic' than she?

      Well... There are powers that even a prudent person of the mystical arts will refuse to meddle in. I grew up with these forces lurking just beyond the veil of my little naive life. As a child, I'd seen powerful people use those forbidden powers. Sometimes, they produced miraculous events and sometimes disaster.

      Early on, although I could feel the great forces roiling inside my chest, begging to be let out, I decided that I didn't want to meddle with them. I chose to simply play around the fringes of magic and ignore the greater powers that I'd inherited from my mother.

      And yet, we always leave changed from these summer sabbaticals. Sometimes, a little... Sometimes, a lot...

      Today, the plan is to fly up into the Rockies to the family compound and prepare for the coming summer.

      My mother began these events in the 1930's during Harry Houdini's occult phase and in the middle of the depression. This was an opportunity to get away from the hucksters, the wanna-be witches and the more seamy side of the profession. When she died a few years back, I simply let the tradition of the gatherings continue.

      The family compound is an old mining town high in the Rockies on a small plateau. In the 1920's, mom purchased the derelict land from the state. The mines and the logging had long since played out and no one wanted to live in such a remote place. It came complete with houses, a hotel and an array of storefronts; all in reparable condition.

      The only way in and out was by plane or broom (and no one uses a broom any more) or the old mining railroad. Through out the summer, we use the railroad to bring in supplies.

      There's no telephone or cell phone service and our electricity comes from an old war surplus generator. (When it works.)

      In the fifties, my Uncle Walter concocted a cloud-cover spell that blocks vision from above. But from our perspective, we would see sunshine. He's now working on a radar block.

      However, when the weather turns bad above his magic cloud cover, it isn't possible to fly in or out. This made the old mining train our only alternative.

      Our plane began to lurch as the pilot tested the engines. Then, the it shifted again as my Aunt Ursula climbed on board and ambled her way forward.

      Knowing the routine, she waddled all the way forward, squeezing between the seats and leaned her head through the cockpit door.

      Morning Harry...

      Morning, Miz Ursula.

      Six hundred sixty-seven pounds, Harry.

      Got it. Thank you mam.

      Once again, the plane shifted as she moved back to her seat and settled her wide load in for the one-hour trip. With her picnic basket nestled against her left hip, she was prepared.

      Lord, how my Auntie loved to eat.

      When I was little, I'd seen her thin one time. She used

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