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Bastian Bastardry 2 For Rayoelgatubelo By Draconicon

Sekhmose stepped back from the altar, standing beside Nefermau as the chains suddenly tensed around the dark woman's ankles and wrists. She arched her back hard against the stone table, her eyes closing and her teeth gritting hard. The transformation was upon her, and there was no going back.

"Did she have a name?" the lion asked the were-feline.

"I believe that there was one that called her Ladan," the priestess said. "Why?"

"No reason. I was just wondering if something so insignificant had even earned one."

"You always were full of yourself."

"Well, others are also full of me."

He smiled as he looked at the white seed slowly oozing out from between the dark woman's legs, her pussy dripping with what he'd deposited. It was clearly already setting to work, too, as tawny fur was sprouting from around her sex, rolling around it in waves to her thighs and down to her asshole. It was spreading quickly, too, taking over her flesh and leaving her a much different color.

The human woman screamed at the top of her lungs, her voice already altering into something of a roar. Not enough of one yet to really frighten him, but enough for him to call the warriors forward.

Four darted in, humans that had been enslaved long ago to the church of Bast, their tongues cut out and their minds devoted to the worship of the goddess and her avatars, the beast people.

Him, Nefermau, and their folk, basically. It was good to be on top.

Regardless, they stood with silver-tipped spears, their weapons pointed at the changing human on the table. They were not going to stab her without cause, but nor would they let her threaten their masters. Until the woman bore the mark of Bast, she would not be included in the ranks of those that the soldiers were there to protect.

The transformation continued, the writhing human flopping this way and that as far as the chains would allow, her pussy dripping, her ass clenching, and at the base of her spine, her tail. Her tail was starting to grow, pushing outwards, getting longer with each passing second. It whipped back and forth, a tawny, darker tuft starting to grow from the end.

"She is taking to it well," he said.

"They always do."

"Not so easily as this. I imagine that she might have had a little lion in her to start."

"There are no lost children, Sekhmose. Stop these delusional thoughts of yours."

"Allow a man a dream."

He chuckled at the priestess's irritation. She was always pushing for him to take things more seriously, but how seriously could anyone take anything? He was a breeder of new were-cats. The fact that his job was basically to fuck meant that he could enjoy whatever he liked, how he liked it.

And right at that moment, he was enjoying the show before him.

The human woman was arching her back again, her legs cracking, thickening with muscle as fur and new bulk went down them. Her thighs spread, her legs pushing out further from the table. Her head grew towards the edge of the altar, and her hands curled tight, furred fingers starting to grow claws.

She will be a warrior, I imagine, he thought. Not the best of them, but a warrior that will be well-suited to hunting our enemies on the plains.

That, and for fucking in bed. He could already imagine this woman gracing his chambers regularly, her furry ass in the air, her chest down against the sheets, showing herself off at his command and giving herself to him however he liked. It was a pleasant thought, and one that he looked forward to indulging as many times as he could.

She was still changing, the fur rushing up her belly, lighter along the stomach and slightly darker along her sides and back. As it went up towards her chest, he could see her slightly darker nipples becoming more pointed, and he thought - though he wasn't sure - that there were other little nubs starting to take shape beneath her fur. None that would pop out and become breasts, but little things that might feed cubs in the future.

Crack, crack. The bones in her feet snapped, her heels rising up and becoming more like paws. The balls of her feet swelled, the beginning of pads growing out of her feet, her toes becoming fatter with claws at the tips.

She howled, yowling and shrieking at the top of her lungs, words apparently lost to her as she went deeper into the transformation. Sekhmose grinned to himself as he watched her hips swell, her ass grow rounder.

"All muscle," he muttered.

"You hope," Nefermau said in return.

"Oh, if it isn't, it will become such."

"You speak as if she will be yours. Just because you have thralled her -"

"It will happen. I have no doubt."

"Overconfident..."

He shrugged. Nefermau was the priestess, yes, but he was a noble, one of those that brought money and land and people into the temple. More to the point, his bloodline and seed had sired dozens of weres in the time that he had worshiped beneath this roof. If she thought that he didn't have the pull to get what he wanted, then she was deluding herself.

As the woman's arms swelled, he gestured at the guards again. They readied their spears as the woman's arms clenched, then yanked.

CRACK!

One of the chains broke free, but before she could reach over to try and break another, two spears crossed at her throat, the silver blades at the end cutting at her neck ever so slightly.

It was a message that even a transforming one could understand. The more that they fought, the more pain that they would feel. They could not heal from silver, not like this. Silver would burn them and mark them in ways that mortals would not be, and it would linger for a very long, long time.

The lioness-becoming stopped her struggles, going still as her face finally began to warp. The start of her muzzle was already there, with a darker nose and sharper teeth, but it finally started to push forward from her face. Little by little, it was pulled free, until more of her teeth were on display with full roars filling the chamber.

He grinned, groping himself until Nefermau slapped his hand away.

"You will not defile this ritual."

"It's rather difficult to defile something by doing the same thing that started the ritual in the first place."

"Just...don't touch yourself."

"If you insist."

He shrugged, pulling his hands behind his back as his cock still pointed forward at the mostly-transformed lioness. She continued to hiss and growl at the humans on either side, her eyes glaring daggers at them, but she was holding still. Even as her face grew, as her muzzle poked out, as her nose stayed nearly the same color as her fur lightened around it, she remained still.

Her ears worked up the side of her head, gradually climbing higher and higher. Soon, they were situated right on the top of her head, slightly rounded, different in shape and obviously far more sensitive than they had been previously. At least, that was she stopped roaring, he'd guess.

She was panting, shaking, her body more than a foot taller than it had been. It was curvier, designed more towards the path of breeding than the path of hunting, but he imagined that both could be accomplished easily enough. She collapsed against the altar, panting hard, her legs spread just enough to show off her holes, one of which was still oozing from what he'd done to her.

In a word, perfect. It had gone absolutely perfectly.

He smiled as he turned to the priestess, bowing at the waist and gesturing at the lioness.

"Would the priestess care to approach first, as is her right?"

"You may. I shall not."

"Are you afraid?"

"No. Merely practical. You have been an upstart for a great many years, Sekhmose. I would not put it past you to order your spawn to slice my throat, regardless of the cost to herself."

Admittedly, that was one idea that he had played with in the past, but he knew that he would never seriously pursue it. There were too many risks when it came to working with those that were recently turned. Their will was too strong, for one. Oh, they had to obey, most certainly, but that didn't mean that they couldn't fight it, delay their obedience by a few seconds or so. When dealing with someone like Nefermau, an attack would need to be instant or not at all.

More to the point, as much as she didn't trust him, he had every inclination to keep his position where it was. He had little in the way of responsibilities and much in the way of privileges. There was no reason to push it yet.

The lion walked up to the altar, looking down at his new pseudo-progeny. He stroked her cheek, chuckling as she turned to glare at him.

"You will learn, in time, just what it means to be of service."

"I will not...will not serve you."

"Ladan, was it?"

She slowly nodded.

"Ladan...you won't have a choice."

The End