The Magic Tablet: The Complete Series Read online

  The Magic Tablet: The Complete Series

  The Magic Tablet

  Nadia Nightside

  Published by Midnight Publishing, 2016.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  THE MAGIC TABLET: THE COMPLETE SERIES

  First edition. August 24, 2016.

  Copyright © 2016 Nadia Nightside.

  Written by Nadia Nightside.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  The Magic Tablet: The Complete Series

  Author's Note: All Characters Depicted Herein Are 18 Years Of Age Or Older. | The Magic Tablet: The Complete Series

  Recent Releases

  Ruling His Own Strip Club

  Ruling His Immortal Enemy

  What's next?

  Further Reading: Bust Gun: The Locker Room

  About the Author

  * * * * *

  Author's Note: All Characters Depicted Herein Are 18 Years Of Age Or Older.

  * * * * *

  The Magic Tablet: The Complete Series

  Subscribe to the Nadia Nightside New Release Newsletter for a private link to THREE completely free stories—including one NOVELLA-LENGTH erotic tale—available ONLY for subscribers! Not only that, but you'll also receive exclusive access to regular special offers and discounts! It's free, it's instant, and you get hot, free tales!

  And if you want to get in touch, guess what? Me too! You can:

  See the hottest new erotica releases from tons of erotica authors via my Facebook Author Page!

  See what’s happening with me on Twitter @nadianightside.

  And finally, enjoy some of my favorite dirty pictures and NSFW .gifs via Tumblr!

  Recent Releases

  Bimbo Gaze

  Ethan Prince gets the surprise of a lifetime when he finds out his gaze can turn gorgeous women into even more gorgeous, utterly fertile, fuckhappy bimbo slaves! Can he stay a good man with such a power? Probably not...

  Bust Gun: The Locker Room

  Roderick is your everyday loser until he finds the Bust Gun. Now, he can transform the hottest women around into his personal bimbo pets...

  Model Sexcretary

  Catriana is the world's most gorgeous model. She's about to become the world's most gorgeous fertile fuckslave.

  Taking Total Control: A Mesmerizing Bundle

  NINE brilliantly hot stories of mind control erotica—essentially three novel-length tales of one lucky guy and the delightful chaos that ensues when he discovers his incredible power to control and transform women however he likes!

  When you finish this hot bundle, please leave a review! I always read them, and I welcome all feedback from every kind of reader. Your voice matters to me and to other readers—please, share it.

  Two gorgeous young women were on their knees before him, worshiping his cock with every atom in their bodies.

  Not just licking, not just sucking, not just kissing and adoring and slurping, though they did all these things with great alacrity.

  No, they were worshipers, because he was their sex god.

  His body was layered with muscle. Hundreds of pounds of dense tissue, all of it chiseled to create the image of masculine perfection. His member was easily over ten inches in length as thick as a bottle.

  They would serve him for the rest of their lives. Their beautiful, busty bodies were utterly addicted to his cum. Each beauty needed to be bred by him, used by him, manhandled totally by him—whatever he thought was necessary would be their pleasure to enact.

  Their obedience was absolute. Never again would a single thought enter their head of ever disobeying him.

  And their bodies had been enhanced as well. Thanks to him, their breasts were larger, their hair longer, their skin shinier and healthier, their every feature more beautiful and pronounced. They would make grown men weep with their unmatched gorgeousness, and yet, these two beauties were utterly helpless before the man they now served.

  They obeyed him. They pleasured him. They worshiped him.

  But it hadn’t always been this way. Before he had found the Tablet, he was nothing to these women. But that was before...

  * * * * *

  “Are you sure I can’t skip class tomorrow, Mr. Lawton? I mean, I’ve been pretty good about coming so far, and my girlfriend and I, we’ve got plans...”

  Jacob sighed, looking at his teaching assistant, Phoebe, with no small amount of pleasure taking hold of his crotch. One look of her, all by itself, was enough to get him excited these days. She had been dressing more and more flirty as the semester had gone on.

  His office was small and filled with textbooks and spare scraps of paper, all of which together was practically wallpaper from being plastered to the surfaces by the humidity. There was no air-conditioning in the office and it was always stifling hot in the Southwestern heat.

  Today, the stunning blond temptress Phoebe wore a pair of fetching skintight leather pants. The heat did not seem to effect her. Pretty girls like her were often beyond pesky realities like temperature. A thin black cord wrapped around her waist and slid from her tailbone to her crotch, imitating a thong on the outside of the sexy pants.

  Her tank top was loose and white, showing off her substantial 36B cleavage. The toned lines of her midriff were easily visible. The only thing “teacherly” about her was her tight dark suit jacket, but with the rest of her outfit, it was more parody than professional. Having her in his classes was hard enough, but ever since she had gotten the position as his teaching assistant, his fantasies had been on overdrive.

  “Phoebe...” Jacob shook his head. “You’ve missed four classes out of the past ten. If you were a student in those classes, I’d have had to fail you by now.” This wasn't even mentioning that she was starting to miss a lot in the classes where she was a student. “When you’re here, you’re great. You engage the students, and you help them with their work, and you bring up good questions that they forget to ask.”

  Or were too intimated to ask. Jacob’s standard disposition was the male version of “resting bitch face.” He loved helping students, loved making sure they were learning.

  But he looked a bit scary and intimating. A forgotten life of athletics when he was younger had left him with a penchant for working out, and so his build was stocky and built solid with plenty of muscle. His hair was thinning on top, in a slightly-less-than-graceful way, and his face was more frowny than grinny. He tried to look after his diet, but he was no saint—and so over the healthy layers of his muscle was another layer of stubborn fat.

  All in all, he looked more like a scowling police sergeant than a compassionate teacher.

  His wife, Vivian, always found this reaction to him strange, as she loved him for his sense of humor more than anything else. But when he was at work, he was working, and there wasn't much room for humor in grading.

  “Right,” said Phoebe. “But like...you know, it’s my girlfriend? I can’t just say no, can I?”

  “Everybody can say no, Phoebe. Even you.”

  He wondered briefly—intoxicatingly—how far she would go to get her way. The thought of her trying harder to seduce him, to offer sexual favors for his favors, was never far from his mind when she spoke to him. She was a true American blond beauty, and that was something very difficult to get out of his head.

  And another thought crossed his head at the same time—the idea of her being unable to say “no” to him. Of him enforcing his will on her body, no matter how perverted or depraved, with her unable to turn down a single request.

  That psychological hold Phoebe held over
his crotch got a little more firm, and his cock pushed forward in his pants. He was glad he sat behind his desk where she could not see this physical reaction to her lovely presence.

  She huffed, crossing her arms, clearly unhappy. “Fine,” she said. “But if Gwen is mad, I’m going to have her yell at you, okay? I don’t want to deal with it.”

  “I’ll tell her what I told you, then.”

  That was a mistake, he thought instantly.

  Now, he was allowing Phoebe to pass the buck—to put the blame on him instead of herself for her actions. Not a great precedent to be setting, and certainly not after all the other bad precedents he had set with her. Besides that, he certainly didn't want to deal with Gwen's temper. She was bad enough when she was upset about some niggling issue in class.

  But, before he was able to correct himself, there was a commotion from outside his small office.

  Curious, he stepped outside to look, waving a hand for Phoebe to hold on. Sometimes there were fights, and he’d have to call security. Bloomingdale Heights was a small college, but it catered to a more urban populace, and sometimes the students hadn’t had the privilege of an upbringing where problems were solved without yelling and escalation.

  But there were no students outside. Instead, he saw the strangest thing. A gorgeous young blond woman, dressed all in white, sheer robes, ran down the hall at top speed, her face set with crazed determination. She had brilliantly green eyes and smooth pale skin like porcelain.

  Upon seeing Jacob peek out the door, she rushed to him and pressed something small and warm into his palm.

  “You’re a good man. Stay that way.” Her voice was urgent, desperate.

  He did not say anything in return, simply standing in stunned silence as she kissed his cheek and then ran off down the hall and—in a blinding flash of light—vanished entirely.

  Barely did he have the time to wonder at that when a group of six young, perfectly chiseled young men ran down the hall in perfect time with one another. All bare, heavy feet slapping the tiles in time. They wore tight, restrictive loincloths around their crotches and nothing else.

  The beauty had placed a stone in his hand. Jacob barely had time to look at it, but as these men ran by, he impulsively stuck in his pocket.

  The men ran by him without a second thought, single-minded in their mission. When they came across the spot where the beauty had vanished, the one in front stopped, holding up a hand and sniffing. He chattered something in some unintelligible tongue, and then the men were off—running down the hallway and out of the complex.

  Jacob stood there in wonderment for several moments, not quite sure what he had seen. Phoebe walked out from the office, staring intently at her phone.

  “You’ve done it now for sure,” she said, texting away. “Gwen’s totally pissed. She’s promising to come yell at you. She really wanted to play mini-golf tonight.”

  He shook his head. “Did you see that?”

  Phoebe waved her phone, irritated. “See what?”

  “Those men...and that woman. She gave me...this stone...”

  But as he held out the stone, it was no longer a stone at all—but instead a tablet. It looked like one of the iTablets sold at all those trendy Citrus stores, the kind that Jacob couldn’t afford on his meager associate professor salary.

  “Stone? What are you talking about, Mr. Lawton?” She rolled her eyes at his helpless “old age problems.” “That’s a tablet. When did you get that? It’s sweet.”

  She reached out for it, and the screen glowed, reacting to her attempt, her presence. Jacob saw an image of Phoebe pop up on the screen in full, erotically painstaking detail—in her current outfit, her current pose—reaching slightly, pouting.

  He moved the tablet away, not sure if she ought to see that. Instantly the screen went dark. The words “iMagic” rolled across its surface.

  “I need you to go, Phoebe,” he said, staring at the screen with great interest. “Go...take care of class. Now.”

  “Without you?”

  “You’re capable,” he said. “Take care of it.”

  She huffed, but complied.

  It was very nice, he reflected, ordering her around and having her obey.

  * * * * *

  With Phoebe gone, Jacob was alone—he hoped—for the rest of the afternoon.

  The iMagic program opened with a swipe across the screen. He was the subject of it now, could see a model of himself sitting intently over something—though the tablet itself was not in his hands on the little program.

  “Okay...” he said.

  This was weird. Did it have a camera? Several cameras? Some kind of...area detection tool? The tablet was rather plain. Though he saw the lens for a camera-like device at the top, it did not appear to be enough to take the kind of video that what was depicted on the screen required.

  There were vital stats above his head and little pencil symbols next to them, as if ripe for editing at his discretion. How did it know his weight was two hundred pounds? How did it know his height was 5'10” and a half? Why would it know his birthday already? He hadn't even given it any information.

  Cookies? Malware?

  Pressing one editing symbol at random, he toyed with his height.

  An array of sliders appeared, his body caught in between a cross symbol. He dragged a marker from where he was—average height, bulky—to the top left—tall, muscular. Going all the way to the other side, he could make himself short and blob-like.

  He shifted back over to the top and left—tall and muscular once more. The morphing system was out of this world.

  He tried to go back to the previous screen, and then the tablet delivered a prompt:

  Save changes?

  The little pop-up flashed a pleasant green color, expectant, as if cooing—go on, try it out. What could it hurt? His finger hovered over the “yes” button, tongue running over his lips.

  There was a knock at the door. Startled, he tossed the tablet to one side, pushing it under the desk. It made him feel silly—what was there to hide? It was just some tablet. But then, there was that woman...the stone...

  The door rustled, locked.

  “Dear? It’s your wife.”

  “Yes,” said Jacob, a bit annoyed. He could see her outline beyond the shadowy glass of the door. “I know it’s you, Vivian. What’s up?”

  He didn’t quite answer the door. His arousal was hard to deny, especially when it was tenting in his pants. There was something about that tablet, something about the promise of it, the strangeness...

  Magic was, of course, nonsense. But it was...well, it seemed like something authentic. A really authentic reality simulator, somehow taking in messages from the environment.

  But how to explain the stone? The disappearing woman? The mostly nude thugs?

  Sleight-of-hand?

  Illusions?

  Methamphetamines?

  “We were supposed to have lunch, remember?” said Vivian. “Will you open the door?”

  “Shit, yeah,” he said, smacking his head. “Sorry. Come on in.”

  He opened the door. Vivian was there, wearing jeans and a form-fitting blouse. Vivian was a teacher as well—an adjunct instead of a professor, which basically meant that she was paid less and that she had no guarantee of a job from semester to semester.

  She worked at several different college campuses around the city and her schedule was always changing. It was hard for the young married couple to find time to be together.

  More time had passed than he realized. He must have drifted as he looked at the tablet. Phoebe would have been done with her first class by now, and it was an hour long. She still had one more in the day, later in the afternoon.

  “Did you forget?” Vivian asked, smiling knowingly. “It’s okay,” she said. “I brought sandwiches.”

  She produced two plain turkey sandwiches from her bag, one with mustard and one with mayo. They kissed, and he took the mustard.

  Jacob loved his wife. He did. />
  He also loved turkey sandwiches. And yet, at the end of the day...it was just a turkey sandwich. And after going back-and-forth all day with a beauty like Phoebe, dressed so goddamn hot in those leather pants and that barely-there tank top...it was like feasting on filet mignon and then eating, well...a turkey sandwich.

  Vivian was “cute.” She had bright dark eyes, and medium-ish hair that was never quite right, and a good sense of style for what fit her body. She didn’t work out enough—neither of them did—and wasn’t quite on top of her diet—neither of them were—but she tried. They both tried a lot and failed a lot, but they did it together. It was a good pairing.

  After the morning’s events, though, Jacob was more turned on than he was anything else, and he was more than willing to forgive any stupidly-perceived faults of his in Vivian's appearance.

  “Hey,” he said, putting the sandwich down. He grabbed her, nuzzling her close. “What do you say we forget about lunch?”

  “Forget about lunch?” she said, voice pleasant and warm. She loved being touched by him, loved being nuzzled and held. “What do you—oh.”

  His hand fell to her crotch and squeezed. He wanted her—wanted his wife. Maybe he’d think about Phoebe a little bit while he fucked her, but so what? The important thing was that his cock went inside her. She wouldn’t complain, and more importantly, she wouldn't know.

  “I...I mean...” she giggled. “Sure, sounds great.”

  “I’m not joking, Vivian. I’m horny as hell.”

  His hardness, stiff and insistent, pressed against her hip.

  “Oh, my,” she said. “You really aren’t. I mean...” she shrugged. “I mean...” she coughed. “I can’t really, right now. I’d have to fix my make-up after, and I have to go right to class, and...if I suck you off, same thing. I could like, talk dirty to you while you jerk it?”

  “What if I promise not to muss your make-up?”

  “You always do that, and then you muss it anyway. You’re hopeless.”