“May I please have your attention class,” said Mrs. Mitchell. She stood in the front of the auditorium that was full of the fifth-years.

“As your training has progressed satisfactorily, today we must deal with an important topic. I’m not sure you understand the criticality of this lesson, it deals with ‘Precision’ and it’s the single most important lesson for a young witch to learn.”

There were several snickers around the room which made Mrs. Mitchell drop her voice to a never-before-heard serious tone.

“I know many of you think our instructions and focus on detail is old-fashioned and meaningless. In fact, when I was sitting in your seat, I thought exactly that. Today’s topic is an object lesson in why we have and demand such focus. I also know all of you have had some interesting experiences here at the Academy.” She looked around the room. “Ms. Olive, you turned your spell partner’s hair an interesting shade of pumpkin, as I recall.”

She saw the young witch in question redden as the one next to her glared at her. “And you, Ms. Sharps, that hole in the potter’s shed didn’t get there without help.” She smiled as she saw another face blush, apparently Ms. Sharps thought she had gotten away with something. “Ms. Vaugier, the fire in the main lab was caused by a lack of concentration, as you well know.

“The fact is each and every one of you have made mistakes, but that’s what school is for. You make them here and upon graduation, you won’t be making them in the real world. Your actions could easily cause all of us grave problems, such as what happened in Salem not all that long ago. You may think such things cannot happen today but look at the politics of the nation we are in and the discrimination and even outright hatred of people based on so many things, like skin color and sexual orientation. If we witches were publicly acknowledged, imagine the hue and cry particularly from theists. Many of them still believe ‘Suffer not a witch to live!'”

Mrs. Mitchell took a long pause as she looked around the room. She wanted her students to understand the seriousness of today’s lesson.

“While the idea of witchcraft is seen as an affectation of some crackpots in today’s society, the idea of such powers in the hands of others will never be something basics are comfortable with. You would go from being an amiable neighbor to someone to be feared, even by some of your own family members. We’ve discussed that at length in many other classes, today is the reason for our almost maniacal focus on ‘Precision’. I use that word on purpose to try and make you understand the gravity of the situation.”

“Matilda?”

Unnoticed in the back of the room an older lady got up and came to the front. “Good morning. My name is Matilda and I knew the witch who made an interesting error many years ago.” She spun her arms and said a short incantation. In the center of the circular auditorium a projection appeared, equally viewable on all sides, such is magic!

If the fifth-years thought about it, the image of two people in bed would have shown them why this subject waited until they were older, Mrs. Mitchell thought to herself as she watched the scene she has seen every year since coming to the Academy.

“Oh Paul,” said an attractive brunette to the man on top of her. He was a large man and he was moving in a time-honored motion that elicited a gasp from the woman with every thrust. Neither heard to cabin door open when a voice rang out.

“Paul, are you in here . . . again?” The man speaking in tired tones quickly heard some scrambling and the creak of a window opening.

“Goddammit Paul, he said he was gonna kill you if he caught you here.” The man went out the door of the cabin and circled quickly around the back. He caught sight of Paul disappearing into the trees and a pretty, feminine arm closing the cabin window. Jackson shook his head. “Give an idiot a big dick and he’ll stick it in anyone, even a married woman who should know better!”

Jackson headed off to the woods as well, as he crossed the border, he heard the door of the cabin slam open. “Oh, hell and damnation!” He slid down behind a downed tree not wanting to be seen, nor mistaken for the woman’s lover. Then he heard the woman’s husband yelling out the window.

“Paul, you fucker, when I find you, I am going to make you pay!”

“Damn!” Jackson thought, he knows who it was. Still to himself, “Not that it was that hard to figure, Paul’s been making the rounds of damn near every woman in the area. He sweet talks them and the shows him his dick and they practically fall on the floor with their legs open.” In some ways he was jealous, but the amount of trouble his friend’s over-sized and over-used dick kept him in, made any real jealousy fade quickly.

Matilda paused the projection and spoke again, “The story about Paul’s cock spread far and wide, it didn’t seem to matter to him because he kept chopping down trees and screwing every woman that wanted him, regardless of any relationship she might be in the middle of. It was almost funny because the guys, be they husbands, fathers, or boyfriends rarely held it against the woman, but the hatred of Paul reached a tipping point. We don’t know if he really had as much sex as the stories said, but even a small percentage would have been more than enough for the stories to spread.

“Unfortunately for Paul, one of those fathers knew a witch, that’s how we got involved.” She looked around the room and knew she had their attention, at least for the moment. She smiled to herself. Showing late-teen girls the image of Paul having sex always got their attention!

“The father approached the witch and offered a ridiculous sum to kill Paul, but we know that was impossible. Such a spell was beyond most witches and the potential feedback made it the most dangerous spell to cast. In fact, there is only a handful of times that particular spell was actually cast and backfired on the caster more than half of the time. They discussed several options and came up with an acceptable plan for the father. It was a relatively simple spell cast over the several cabins where Paul was known to visit often. The idea was to eventually spoil his ability to perform, only things didn’t go as planned.”

“The witch used an old spell and one that should have worked, only she made an error and while it did work to reduce and eventually eliminate Paul’s sex life, the impact was a bit larger than that. Here is why this is an object lesson in ‘Precision’. Her error was minor, but like many things, a small error at one point gets magnified by dangerous degrees. For example, if you were to walk the ten miles to the nearest town and you aimed yourself just one degree off of a direct heading, you would miss the town completely. Precision when flying, just like using ingredients or casting a spell is paramount! Unlike flying, you can’t course correct in the middle of a spell casting.”

“Paul didn’t realize it right away, but one of his lovers did. She was one of the few who was unattached.” She restarted the projection. She smiled when she heard several gasps as the seventeen and eighteen-year-old witches saw Paul’s cock for the first time. It was both impressive and frightening, especially in a group that was probably mostly virgins.

“Paul, oh my god, I think your cock has gotten bigger!”

He looked down, but it looked the same to him. He shrugged and knelt between her open legs, rubbing his cock head across her pussy. As he pushed in he was surprised as to how tight she was, almost like a virgin he once deflowered. Once he was inside and moving, the redhead was hollering louder than ever.

Afterward, he thought someone was playing a trick on him because his clothing didn’t fit very well. He simply shouldered his ax and went off to work.

The scene changed to a pretty raven-haired woman looking at Paul, “You aren’t fucking me with that!” The angle changed and the difference in size seemed pretty obvious.

“Come on, Lanie, lots of girls loved it!”

“I’ll blow you, but you’ll tear me up with that monster! It’s too fucking huge!” Again after they were done, his new clothes felt really tight and he even split his shirt while shouldering his ax. He got some new clothes, but after a little while, they didn’t fit either. He didn’t believe he was getting taller until he cut a notch in a tree right above his own head and a couple of days later realized he was taller than the notch.

But now he was having more trouble with women. They used to marvel at his cock, at a foot-long and thick as most women’s forearms when hard, they were intrigued and rarely turned him down. Now the no’s were getting more frequent because many of the women he approached saw his dick and, while they gushed over the size, they refused to have sex with him because twelve inches was one thing on an almost seven-foot man, but eighteen inches and as big around as a can of paint was too much. Some who tried couldn’t get it in at all! Paul was getting despondent.

It wasn’t just his dick, he had grown to almost 10 feet tall and the growth spurt wasn’t stopping. The only people who appreciated it was his bosses. He was a great lumberjack, but now he was amazing. His size gave him an unbelievable strength and also stamina for work, but it was also making it impossible for him to fit in a house or, as we now know, have sex with any women. The best he got for a while was oral, but even that was impossible when his cock hit a full two feet in length and he was nearly fourteen feet tall.

Matilda stopped the projection with the image of Paul standing with, no towering over a regular-sized man. The contrast was amazing, even more so since it was obvious from the tight fit of his clothes that he was still growing.

“You see, the agreement made by the father of one of his paramours and the witch was to make his member grow so big, it would be unusable. The father even walked away after paying the witch with the mental image of Paul needing a wheelbarrow someday. The error the witch made caused the spell to affect his entire body. Eventually, he became incredibly well-known and the witch’s tale has become this cautionary story for us here at the Academy.”

Several hands went up. “Yes, Ms. Grace?”

“Ma’am, you are talking about a lumberjack named Paul. I’ve heard this story, are you really talking about Paul Bunyan?”

Matilda smiled, “Someone always makes that connection and yes, it’s true. That is the true origin of Paul Bunyan. An ordinary man who couldn’t keep his dick to himself. Actually, his original last name wasn’t ‘Bunyan’, a writer in the early twentieth-century gave him that moniker, it’s a play in on an old French word ‘bugne‘ for a swelling or a growth.”

Ms. Grace continued, “But we’ve heard that story since childhood, Paul Bunyan and his blue ox, Babe. There was never any mention of magic, spells, witches, or even sex.”

“What you heard was the G-Rated story that has now been passed around for generations. The details have been lost in time and thankfully so. If anyone had talked and uncovered the witch, she might have been burned at the stake herself. If Paul had discovered how his unusual growth spurt had happened, he might have gone searching for the witch himself. Even the father kept his mouth shut as well, especially after he heard the stories about him. I don’t think he wanted that now giant of a man to think he had anything to do with it.”

Another hand went up, “Yes, Ms. Velasquez?”

“So, you are telling us this so we pay more attention to anything we go to achieve as witches!”

“Certainly,” Matilda answered. “Unintended consequences here at the school are one thing, but once you graduate they can have some long-term impacts. Think about it, one little mistake, and the legend of Paul Bunyan has been passed down for decades. And it really was a small mistake, one of her ingredients had gone bad, but she didn’t know it at the time. It wasn’t until she started hearing the stories of Paul that she realized what had happened. She came here to the Academy in hopes we could find a way to reverse it.”

“Did she?”

“She found a way, but it was too late. The legend had grown too big to hide. Once Paul started striding around the western parts of the United States and Canada for years growing bigger and bigger it was impossible to change it. His legend had grown beyond our control. It wasn’t until he disappeared one day while taking a bath in the Bering Sea that we had any hope of minimizing the account. There were many stories and the ones that survived today tend to be mostly children’s tales. To be honest, we helped spread those, in an effort to keep the stories as if they were simply folklore. As more and more people who knew Paul died, his reality faded, but the legend grew. It was that legend enabled us to keep the secret of how it happened.”

“But Mrs. Mitchell, what about Babe, his Blue Ox?”

She smiled a very secretive smile and replied, “That, ladies, is a story for another day!”

 

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than Lushstories.com with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

Copyright © 2020 by Brookell. This story may not be reproduced in any form without the express permission of the author.





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