Your Dick Made Me Believe in Magic: Hot T4T Stories Wherein Gay Trans Witches Destroy Transphobia (Queering Consent)

High-heat, sexy, supernatural stories

Drink deeply from this steamy cauldron of spellbinding t4t scenes featuring transmasculine hotties practicing erotic witchcraft. Sigils in an eco-friendly nightclub lead to unexpected encounters; a horned god delivers more than just spiritual blessings to his devotees of self-made men; a video-game playing demon and his roommate coax a ghost through his unfinished business; a budding practitioner’s querent pulls oracle cards for “erotic bliss” and “uninhibited release”; and a green witch’s attempt to identify an unusual psychotropic plant takes a tendril-filled turn.

Each story is linked to a cast of bewitching boys with different body types, boundaries, and backgrounds, all engaging each other in consensual and super sexy rendezvous—each one magically hotter than the next. Ground yourself for some wild magic! 

Keep reading for an excerpt from River Huckleberry Kero’s Your Dick Made Me Believe in Magic, the latest release in our Lambda-Award-winning Queering Consent series! Preorder from our site for direct shipping from Microcosm’s warehouses starting April 15th; available to order or pick from your preferred retailer’s shelves starting May 13th.

Heath lit the final candle in his room, and a soft hush fell. He took a breath and centered himself, watching the shadows flicker on the wall.
“Ouch!” The match burned down to his fingertips and he shook his hand, putting it out. He put two fingers in his mouth as he turned around to survey the room.

He had pushed everything out of the way. His bed was shoved all the way up against the wall, the black sheets thrown over top of it. His dresser was crammed into the corner, the top of it a clusterfuck of jewelry, fingerless gloves, books, crystals, and tarot cards. His armchair, footstool, and desk were all jammed awkwardly together, and the rug was rolled up in the corner.

His wooden floor was bare except for a thrifted brass chalice, a bowl of salt with burning incense, and his chalk. Oh, and the approximately fifty black candles that were dripping wax everywhere. They were stuck into the floor, in bowls, on stands, and in candelabras. It was gonna be a bitch to clean up later.

“Okay,” said Heath as he pushed his black curls back from his face. He was in pretty desperate need of a haircut, but he was also rocking his afro pompadour. “Let’s see . . . what beasties do we wanna play with, today?” Heath crouched down, his collection of necklaces bearing pentagrams, ankhs, and protection charms rattling against his chest. He picked up the book, reverently feeling the weight of the bound pages, the softness of the black leather cover. There was no title, only a pressed design in the center of a jawless skull encircled by a serpentine design.

This was a book he had found tucked away in the back of the esoterica store he helped run. Heath found it jammed between the baseboard and the shelving unit when he was cleaning. When he opened it, he knew he had found something special. After a few cleansing charms, the book was ready to go. Heath wanted to break it in with a simple summoning. His favorite thing in the world was breaking demons.

Heath was a witch, and his expertise lay in summonings, exorcisms, working with the undead and with creatures of other worlds. Up on his wall, he had a long shelf of jars containing demons from his previous workings. He liked to pluck demons who were tormenting folks in his neighborhood and put them into these containers for use at a later date. You never knew when you might want to have a demon around.
Of course, there was occasionally a downside to this work.

Heath looked up at the mirror he had on the wall and realized that his reflection had blood coming from his eyes, dripping down his cheeks and draining onto the floor. He patted his face to ensure it was an illusion, then he sighed and rolled his eyes.
“Saul, go away.”
His reflection in the mirror shifted to pull a face at him, and then the ghost stepped out of the mirror. Saul was okay, but he was a typical “dudebro.” He had the body type of a football quarterback and the personality of a college-dropout-turnedgym-rat. But he was nice enough . . . usually. The only really off-putting thing about him was the way that he looked. Like most ghosts, Saul was wearing what he wore when he died. Unfortunately for Saul, he died while wearing tighty-whities, white socks, and Nike slides. Heath still hadn’t figured out what he died of, exactly.
“What are you doing?” Saul asked. He glanced around the room.
“Looks like you’re expecting company.”
“Go away, Saul,” said Heath. He finally found a good page. He intended to summon a demon, just a little one. He figured he could catch it and then sneak it into a place that could use a little chaos. Maybe a police station.

Saul walked over and stood above him, and Heath hated when he did that. His briefs were so worn out, he could see waaaaay too much when he stood that close.
“Man, you seem to like pushing your luck,” said Saul, “Can you ever, like, summon a girl demon?”
“Not my style, Saul. If you wanna see chicks so bad, go hang out at the graveyard.”
Saul whined. “The graveyard is full of oldies! I want a hot young thing, y’know?” He made an hourglass gesture with his hands. “A hot demon chick with big tits, is that so much to ask for?”
“Be careful what you wish for,” said Heath, not really paying attention to him anymore. He was too busy examining his binding spells, clicking his rings together while he thought. He took a fresh jar off of the shelf, picked up a black candle, and dripped wax onto the side of it. He then pressed a carved obsidian charm into the wax, holding it in place until the wax solidified.
“Ooh, what’s this?” Saul asked.
“I dunno,” said Heath, picking up his chalk. He drew a large circle on the floor.
“This thing on your shelf. Is this a dildo?”
Heath looked up with a frown. “Don’t touch my stuff, Saul.”

Saul was looking at the most expensive dildo in Heath’s (extensive) collection. It was a big boy, big enough that Heath hadn’t even been able to take it, yet . . . though not for lack of trying. It was about a foot long, and a few inches thick. There were several pronounced ridges on the dick, as well as a fat knot. It was a high-quality silicone and had a gorgeous ombre color job that went from yellow at the tip to a crimson at the base. He had purchased it from an online artisanal dildo-maker for $275, and he was
proud of it. He liked to think of it as aspirational to keep it on his shelf next to his favorite glass butt plug, purple ropes, and wax play candles.

“Jesus Christ,” Saul said, shaking his head at it. “What are you supposed to do with that? Put it in your butt?”
“That’s the idea, eventually,” Heath grumbled. He flicked through a few pages in the book and began to draw more symbols on the wooden floor. He placed the jar in the center of the summoning circle as he
continued to draw more patterns.
“You’re really going to do this?” Saul asked.
“I do this all the time, Saul. Go away.” Heath drew the final symbol, lit a new stick of incense, and picked up a box of table salt. He poured it all around the outside of the circle, set the box aside, and knelt. He placed his hands on the chalk lines and closed his eyes. He took a breath to center himself . . .
. . . And opened his eyes to find that he was face to face with Saul’s crotch.
“Eugh!” He staggered back.
Saul looked very pleased with himself. “Boo.”
“Get out of here, Saul!” Heath swatted at him, his arm going right through his junk.
“Am I your type?” Saul asked cheekily.
“No! God!” Although his briefs did hug his body very nicely. Heath hated to admit it, but Saul with his stupid floppy hair and big muscles and forever sunburned shoulders was a very handsome guy.
“Okay, out! I mean it!” He grabbed a bottle of blessed water that he kept in a sprayer, complete with a talisman hanging around the neck of it, and squirted at Saul.
“Ow! Ow, stop it!” The water made his form fizz and bubble. “Fine! I know when I’m not wanted. I’ll be chilling in my crib.”
He began to float upwards towards the attic. Heath gave him one last spray for good measure, making him shriek and zip up into the ceiling.

Great. Heath didn’t love kicking him out. He’d probably pout, moan, and rattle some chains or slam some doors. Heath sighed. Finally. He set the bottle aside and then placed his hands back on the floor.

“Zalmag,” said Heath, calling a type of minor demon by name, “Enter my circle and be bound. Ex profundo te voco, ut mea iussa facias.” The candles flickered. Heath picked up the book and held it in his lap. His lips began to form the rest of the incantation. The language was not quite Latin, but it was close enough. His words echoed in the room softly.
“Be bound to me and do my bidding.
Come to me from the depths.
I command you to come hither!”
A gust of wind blew through the room, putting out some of the candles. The remaining ones flared up, jumping and dancing so intricate shadows were thrown on the walls. The bottles and jars on the shelves rattled, the demons squealing inside of them in the presence of one of their own. Heath closed his eyes. When he opened them, the demon was in the circle before him.

As soon as he saw the demon, Heath realized he had made a mistake. This was not a small time demon. This demon had a humanoid figure, except for a few key features. His skin was deep red, intense as a sunset or freshly pooled blood. He had black feathers on his forearms and legs, creeping all the way up to his thighs. His feet and hands ended in talons. Red horns arched up through the feathers on his head, sharp and adorned with gold chains. From his back sprouted wings, black and dripping with darkness. When the demon opened his eyes, they were lined with gold. When he smiled, Heath saw his golden fangs.

Of course, he was fully naked. His body was smooth, and his cock . . . well, he was flaccid so it was small, nestled against his body, but Heath did notice the piercing through the head.

“Um,” said Heath. “You’re not Zalmag, are you?”

For more spellbinding scenes, preorder your copy of Your Dick Made Me Believe in Magic! Shipping direct from Microcosm starting April 15th, available at your favorite Microcosm peddler May 13th.