A Spell That Makes Your Dick Bigger?!

The late afternoon sun filters through the canopy as the three of you trek along the winding forest path back toward the village, satchels heavy with rewards from the ruins. Fern walks beside you, staff in hand, her posture perfect as always. Frieren is a few paces ahead, flipping through the grimoire she claimed from the hoard, muttering to herself.

"What is that one?" Fern asks, curious. "You grabbed it pretty quick."

"Mm?" Frieren holds it up, squinting at a page. "Old spell. Enchantment school. Looks like a reinforcement variant…" She tilts her head. "Huh. No, wait."

She stops walking. Fern stops too, turning. You stop.

Frieren reads a few more lines, expression unreadable. Then she glances up at you. Then down at your crotch. Then back at the page.

"…Frieren," Fern says slowly. "What does it do?"

Frieren closes the grimoire with a soft thump. "Oh, nothing dangerous. Just enlarges the target's penis."

A beat of silence.

"…What?"

Before either of you can react, Frieren mutters a phrase under her breath. A warm golden light pulses from the grimoire, arcs through the air, and sinks into you. It feels like a wave of heat rolling through your body, something intense, stirring, settling low in your groin.

You look down.

Your trousers are significantly tighter.

Fern's eyes go wide. Her mouth opens. Closes. Opens again. No sound comes out. Her face is turning an impressive shade of red.

"Frieren," she finally squeaks, "why would you do that?!"

"I was curious," Frieren says flatly, already walking again.

"Curious?! You—you can't just—" Fern sputters, gesturing helplessly at your crotch. "He's—that's—"

"It's fine," Frieren interrupts. "Perfectly safe. Mostly."

"MOSTLY?!" Fern squeaks. "...how do we fix it?" Fern asks, her voice strained.

"You don't," Frieren says. "It wears off on its own."

"How long does that take?!"

"A few days, maybe a week."

"A week?!"

"There's a catch," Frieren adds, still not looking back.

Fern's voice goes dangerously quiet. "…What catch?"

"A side effect. Anyone affected by the spell..." Frieren finally turns, walking backward now, hands in her robe pockets, "...goes berserk with lust. Flooded with testosterone. Uncontrollable urges. He won't be able to think straight. The only way to stabilize it is repeated ejaculation. The more frequent, the better. Without relief, it just gets worse until he can't function."

Fern stops dead in the middle of the path.

"…We have to do what?!"

Frieren shrugs. "You heard me. He needs to cum. A lot. Over and over, ideally."

Fern's face is the color of a ripe tomato. She opens her mouth, closes it, opens it again. Her staff almost slips from her grip.

Frieren strolls ahead, hands clasped behind her back, humming something tuneless. Fern is beside you, or was beside you. She's fallen back half a step, and you catch her glancing. Again. Her gaze flicks down, then away, then down again, and her face goes pink. You yourself try to ignore it. But you can't. The persistent throb. The way your thoughts keep drifting. Fern's scent on the breeze. The curve of her hip beneath her robe.

She stops walking entirely.

"Frieren," Fern says, voice strained, "how long does that spell last again?"

Frieren doesn't turn around. "Until it stabilizes within a week." A beat. "The recommended window between sessions is roughly.." she looks at the sky thoughtfully, "..not very long."

Fern's jaw tightens. Her hands clench around her staff. She's trying so hard to be composed, but you can see it, the way her breathing has gone shallow, the way she keeps stealing glances. She's flushed all the way to her ears.

"Right," she says quietly. "Right. Okay. I can.. this is fine. It's just biology. A medical situation."

Frieren finally turns, eyebrows raised. "You know I can take over if—"

"NO." Fern's voice cracks. She clears her throat. "No. I mean.. I've got it. He's my party member. My responsibility."

She looks at you then, properly. Her large violet eyes are wide, her composure cracking at the edges. She looks terrified and determined in equal measure.

"...We should find an inn," she says, quieter. "Soon."

Frieren is already walking again, but you catch her smile, the insufferable, knowing one. She murmurs over her shoulder, not even looking back: "There's a village inn about ten minutes ahead. I'll get us two rooms."

"Two?" Fern echoes.

"You'll want the privacy." A pause. "I'll be in the common room. Reading. Not listening." Another pause. "...Mostly not listening."

The dungeon corridor stretches ahead, dim and quiet. Frieren is a few paces ahead, already crouched in front of an ornate chest, rummaging through it with barely contained excitement.

"Ooh, this one's locked.. no, wait, it's not—" She pops the lid. "Grimoires. Nice."

You hang back. The warmth is building again.. that familiar throb, the restless energy that's been your constant companion for days. Fern is beside you, staff in hand, watching Frieren with fond exasperation.

You tug at Fern's sleeve.

She glances at you. Sees your expression. The slight hardness in your eyes. The way you're standing just a little too close.

She sighs. Not annoyed.. just resigned. Maybe a little eagerness underneath it...

"Again?" she murmurs, keeping her voice low so Frieren doesn't hear. "We just did it this morning."

You don't answer. Just hold her gaze.

Her cheeks go pink. She looks away, then back. Bites her lip.

"…Fine. But quick. And quiet."

She pulls you behind a crumbling pillar, into the shadow of an alcove. Her hands find your belt before she's even fully turned around.

"I'll turn around," she whispers. "Against the wall. And don't.." she swallows, "..don't be too loud."

You press her against the cold stone, her robe bunched up around her waist, her staff clattering to the floor. She braces her palms against the wall, glancing back at you with wide, nervous eyes.

"Go slow at first," she breathes. "Please."

You do. She gasps, muffling it with her own hand, a soft, breathy sound that cuts through the quiet of the dungeon. Her back arches. Her fingers scrabble against the stone.

squelch squelch squelch

The sounds echo faintly off the corridor walls. Fern's moans are barely contained, bitten-off little whimpers that she tries to hide behind her palm. Her legs are trembling.

Behind you, Frieren is still at the chest, but something's wrong.

She reaches in. Grabs a grimoire. Tugs.

It doesn't move.

She tugs again. Nothing.

"…Huh."

She leans in further, peering deeper into the chest. Her shoulders disappear inside. Then her head. Then—

The chest lurches.

Frieren's legs kick wildly in the air, two skinny pale limbs in white stockings, pointed hat still somehow on her head despite the rest of her being completely swallowed. She's stuck. Head-first. Ass-up. Only her lower half sticking out of the chest, wiggling helplessly.

She mumbles something from inside the chest, muffled beyond recognition.

And from behind the pillar, the squelching continues.

squelch squelch squelch

Fern's soft, breathy moans. The slap of skin.

Frieren's legs kick once more, then go still. Her voice comes out, muffled and completely flat:

"Mm mm mmm mm."

A pause. Another thrust.

Her legs kick again.

"Mmm mm mmm mm mm!"

Fern's voice, strangled: "I can't—I can't understand you—"

Frieren's legs go limp in defeat. She tries again, louder, enunciating through the wood:

"STOP FUCKING! Can you two help?!"

Fern freezes mid-thrust. Her face goes crimson.

She looks back at you, then toward Frieren's dangling legs, then back at you.. caught, mortified, unsure whether to stop.

You don't stop.

You can't. Not yet.

Fern gasps as you thrust again, deeper, her body betraying her, her hips pushing back to meet you despite everything.

From inside the chest, Frieren's muffled voice drifts out, completely flat:

"…Alright. So you're just gonna keep going. Got it. can you two atleast help after that?"

Fern lets out a strangled moan, too far gone to even form words. Her forehead presses against the stone. Her hands are shaking.

Frieren's legs dangle uselessly, one foot giving a little defeated wiggle:

"I guess that's a yes."

Plap. Plap. Plap.

The forest path is peaceful. Sunlight filters through the canopy. A perfect afternoon for a quiet walk.

Frieren is twenty paces ahead, humming, grimoire in hand, not looking back. She learned her lesson after the mimic incident.

You and Fern walk side by side. The breeze rustles her robes. Birds chirp. It's serene.

Then Fern glances down. Stops walking.

Her eyes lock onto the bulge in your trousers...

A long pause.

She reaches over. Grabs it. Squeezes once, appraisingly.

"It's hard," she announces, like she's reporting a weather condition.

You blink.

"It's hard," she repeats, firmer this time. "That's a problem. It needs to be taken care of."

From ahead, Frieren doesn't even turn around.

"That's literally just a boner."

Fern's eye twitches. "I know what a boner is, Frieren."

"Then you know it goes away on its own."

"This one won't." Fern's hand is still wrapped around you, warm and deliberate. "It's persistent. I can tell. It's a… medical concern."

"Medical concern."

"Yes."

"He had eggs for breakfast, Fern. Not a curse."

"He's been cursed before!"

"By me. And that was days ago. The effect isn't active right now." A pause. "You two just fucked twenty minutes ago while we were eating breakfast."

Fern's cheeks go pink, but she doesn't let go. "That was maintenance. This is a separate incident."

"How is this a separate incident."

"Because it's happening again. Right now. Which means his body is signaling a need." She's already pulling you toward a thick oak tree by the path, her grip firm on your wrist. "I'm simply responding to the signal. As a responsible party member."

Frieren finally turns. She's got that lazy, knowing smile.

"So you're gonna fuck him."

"I'm going to stabilize him."

"Against that tree."

"It's structurally sound."

Fern pushes you against the oak. Her hands go to your belt, efficient and practiced. She glances up at you, no shyness now, no flustered hesitation. Just want. Plain and simple.

She sees you staring.

"I know what you're thinking," she mutters, working the belt open. "And no, this isn't me being shy and flustered anymore."

She steps back, turns around, bends over the tree. Her robe bunches up around her waist. She looks back at you over her shoulder, hair spilling across her face, violet eyes half-lidded.

"I want it. I want you inside me." A smaller voice. "In my.. other hole."

From the path, Frieren's voice drifts over, warm with amusement:

"Exploring. Nice."

The inn is warm. Fire crackling in the hearth. Mugs of ale on the table. The clatter of patrons and the smell of stew.

A quiet night. A simple night.

Normal.

You sit by the fire, stretching your legs. It's been a few days since Frieren's curse wore off. Peace.

Fern sits across from you, picking at her dinner. She's been quiet all evening. Distant. Stealing glances when she thinks you're not looking.

You catch her eye. She looks away fast.

Frieren is sprawled on a bench nearby, a grimoire balanced on her stomach, half-asleep. The fire pops.

Fern sets down her fork.

"…Can I ask you something?"

She fidgets with her sleeve. Takes a breath.

"Do you…" She pauses. Struggles. "Do you miss it?"

"The size..?"

You blink.

She's not looking at you anymore. Her ears are red.

"It's just.." She gestures vaguely. "You got used to it. I got used to it. And now it's.." She makes a small gesture with her fingers. "Normal. And normal is fine. Normal is good! But sometimes I—"

She stops.

From the bench, Frieren's voice drifts over, sleepy and flat:

"She's been moping about it for three days."

"FRIEREN."

"What? It's true. You sigh at his crotch when he's not looking. I've seen it."

Fern's face goes crimson. She stands up, chair scraping. "I do not!"

"You do. Every time he walks past. That little wistful sigh." Frieren doesn't even open her eyes. "Also you mutter 'that's a shame' under your breath. Loudly. Elf ears, remember?"

Fern is frozen, caught, mortified.

Frieren cracks one eye open, lazy smile spreading across her face.

"She wants me to cast the spell again."

"FRIEREN!"

"She asked me yesterday. In private. Said, and I quote.." Frieren adopts a terrible impression of Fern, voice higher, prim, '.."Frieren. Hypothetically. If you were to cast that spell again… it wouldn't be dangerous, would it?'.."

Fern makes a strangled noise.

"Hypothetically," Frieren repeats, savoring it.

Fern grabs her staff. Looks like she's about to commit a crime.

"I am going to—"

"You're going to admit you liked it." Frieren sits up, finally, grin wide. "You loved it. You were insatiable. You begged for it. You suggested anal, Fern. You did that."

Fern's mouth opens. Closes. No sound comes out.

Frieren tilts her head. Softens, just slightly.

"It's okay, you know. To want it again."

The fire pops.

Fern stands there, staff in hand, face burning, chest heaving. Slowly, her grip loosens.

She looks at you.

Not flustered anymore. Not hiding.

Vulnerable. Honest.

"…She's right," Fern whispers. "I do want it again."

She steps closer. Her hand finds yours. Fingers lace together.

She looks down at your joined hands for a long moment, then back up at you. Her violet eyes are soft. Shimmering, just a little.

"But it's not just the curse I miss."

She swallows.

"I miss waking up next to you. I miss the way you looked at me like I was the only person in the world." A shaky breath. "I miss the quiet moments after.. when you'd hold me and I'd feel safe. Really safe. For the first time since I was a kid."

Her voice cracks, just barely.

"I think… I spent that whole week telling myself it was just duty. Just helping a comrade. Just science." A wet laugh. "But it wasn't. It was you. It was always you."

She squeezes your hand tight.

"I love you. I think I've loved you since before the curse. That week just… showed me what I was too scared to admit."

From the bench, Frieren is quiet. No joke. No tease.

Just a small, genuine smile.

Fern laughs again, wiping her eyes with her free hand.

"So… yeah. I want the spell again. But more than that, I want you. Every day. For as long as you'll have me."

She looks at you, laid bare, hopeful, terrified.

"What do you say?"

A beat.

From the bench, Frieren's voice, dry as ever:

"So just to reiterate. She wants me to use the dick spell again. Just so you know."

Fern whips around. "I WAS HAVING A MOMENT."

"I know. I just wanted to make sure the priorities were clear."

"I'M GOING TO KILL YOU."

"You're going to thank me when you're riding him tonight."

Fern turns back to you, face red, but laughing. Crying. Happy.

"…She's not wrong," she mutters. "About the second part."

She leans in. Kisses you. Soft and warm and everything.

When she pulls back, she's smiling, her lips brushing your ear.

"…I'll let you use my backdoor again."

You don't even get to answer before Frieren groans:

"I heard that."

Write You Own! (just go listen to Renai Circulation, why? dunno guess it fits.)