Chapter 1: Under the Fallen House
Dorothy stood in the swirling dust of the Munchkinland wreckage, her boots crunching against the shattered remnants of a once-grand house. The twister had done its work, dropping the structure right on top of the infamous East Witch. But Dorothy wasn’t here for mourning or heroics. No, her pulse raced for something far darker, far more primal. She adjusted the bulge in her tight denim shorts, her secret throbbing with anticipation. She’d always been a pervert, a thrill-seeker, and the sight of that green-skinned body pinned beneath the rubble was doing things to her she couldn’t ignore.
‘Well, damn,’ she muttered to herself, licking her lips as she crouched down to get a better look. The witch’s emerald legs stuck out from under the house, motionless but oddly enticing, her striped stockings torn just enough to reveal smooth, otherworldly skin. ‘Never thought I’d get hard over a dead witch, but here we are.’
A sudden cackle broke through her dirty thoughts. ‘Dead? Oh, honey, I’m far from gone,’ came a sultry, venomous voice. The witch’s legs twitched, and Dorothy stumbled back, her heart pounding—not from fear, but from a rush of horny excitement. ‘I’m pinned, not perished. And I can feel that filthy gaze of yours burning into me. What kind of freak are you, girl?’
Dorothy grinned, her confidence unshaken. ‘The kind who doesn’t waste an opportunity. Name’s Dorothy, and I’ve got a storm in my pants that’s begging for a release. You game, witchy, or are you just gonna lie there and tease me?’
The witch’s laughter was sharp, cutting through the humid Oz air. ‘Call me Elvira, and I don’t play games with timid little farm girls. But I’m curious… what’s hiding under those shorts? I sense something… unusual.’ Her voice dripped with mockery, but there was an undeniable heat in it.
Dorothy smirked, unbuttoning her shorts with a slow, deliberate tease. ‘Unusual is my middle name, sweetheart. Feast your eyes on this.’ She freed her cock, already hard and pulsing, the sight of it making her own breath hitch. ‘Bet you’ve never seen a girl like me in Oz.’
Elvira’s gasp was audible, even from beneath the rubble. ‘Well, I’ll be damned. You’re a rare breed, Dorothy. I’m stuck, but I’m not helpless. Why don’t you come closer? Let’s see if you’ve got the guts to match that monster between your legs.’
Dorothy didn’t need a second invitation. She stepped forward, her boots scuffing the dirt, her body already sweating with anticipation. ‘Oh, I’ve got guts, Elvira. And I’m gonna make you scream louder than that twister ever did.’ She knelt beside the witch’s exposed legs, her hands tracing up the torn stockings, feeling the heat of that strange, magical skin. Her cock twitched, aching to be touched, to be buried somewhere wet and willing.
‘Talk is cheap, farm girl,’ Elvira taunted, her voice a low purr now. ‘Show me what you’ve got before I hex that pretty little ass of yours.’
Dorothy chuckled, her fingers digging into the witch’s thighs as she positioned herself. ‘Hex me all you want, babe. I’m already cursed with a hunger nothing in Oz can satisfy… yet.’ Her breath was heavy, panting with need, as she leaned in, ready to claim her prize. The air was thick with tension, the promise of something explosive just seconds away.
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