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Terramagica

Chapter 08

(The Collar and the Crown)

Written by Leo_Todrius

Supported by my Patrons

There were many types of sand in the world, ranging from the luxuriously soft, well polished white sands of the Hydian Coast to the coarse, exfoliating black sands of the Diremount islands. They all had their place, but for King Tanirun Osec, he did particularly enjoy having his daily sand bath and foot massage. It took a lot of sand to cover the nine foot tall sasquatch, though only his head and his enlarged feet were exposed. Two young fairy men knelt at his feet, using their nimble fingers with painted nails to massage the calloused, leathery, plump flesh. His toes wiggled with enjoyment, a smile crossing his faintly simian face.

"I dare say this is even better than last time..." Tanirun said, leaning his head back, though he felt the tug as his navel length beard was trapped beneath the sand, keeping him from reclining his head too much. Despite the limitations, he turned his head a little, "Are you sure you don't want to join me in some pampering, my pet?" he asked.

A hot breath blasted from Mahno's nostrils as he 'politely' declined the offer. Mahno had been corrupted into the king's perfect bodyguard and servant, standing at seven and a half feet tall. He had the hunched, black fur covered shoulders and long, full tail of a werewolf in its feral state, but his face was sasquatch instead, complete with swollen brow ridge and a full, luxurious, waxy black beard that dropped down to his abdominal muscles. Only the hint of the black leather collar wrapped around his neck remained visible, peeking out from the side of his neck not covered by his long hair that had once been a mohawk and now was an asymmetrical cascade down to his left shoulder.

"Fair enough, I suppose it is good to have you ever vigilant. I wouldn't want you too relaxed in case something actually did happen." Tanirun said, hesitating as he tried to remember which aspect of his pampering was being neglected. He would have started snapping his fingers as the thought came back to him, at least he would have if they had not been buried in sand. "Tartary juice! Where is my tartary juice?" The king questioned, his voice echoing off the walls of the chamber.

Sinewy green legs began striding across the raised platform that bordered the sand baths, covered in invisible vellus hairs that seemed as though they belonged on a fern. His shapely hips were shrouded in a reddish-orange wrap, a soft and firm stomach leading up to faintly muscled pectorals and perfect shoulders. Atop the green one's head was a fair and handsome young face with greenish blond hair pulled back into a short ponytail. The dryad carried a carafe of liquid that seemed to be somewhere between foam and cotton. He reached the king's side, picking up the chalice from before and began to 'pour' the tartary as best he could. It came out in thick, spongy plops that splattered their way until it was full. The carriage was set aside and the dryad started to offer it to the king. Three pairs of eyes all focused in on the dryad instantly.

"The king does not sample anything that is not tested first..." One of the fairies said, flaring at the rookie mistake of the new royal servant.

"I apologize most sincerely..." The dryad murmured, bowing his head low.

"Mahno, come." Tanirum commanded. The were-squatch bodyguard moved over on large feet, sniffing and snorting, eyes gleaming with golden intensity. Clawed hands came out to coil around the chalice. He lifted the cup half way to his lips before he paused, looking at the ashamed dryad. There was something about his cheeks and chin that seemed familiar, and.... The little v shape his elbows made? He knew those elbows anywhere, but they had never been green before... They should have been the color of a sunrise peach, belonging to the most cute and sexy elf that he'd ever made.

"Ori..." Mahno murmured. The dryad's eyes darted up, flashing relief and warning at the same time.

"What was that, pet?" Tanirun asked, growing cautious enough to start trying to sit up in the sand. The fairies chittered in their native language, moving to keep him sedate.

"Ah right, tartary... I was excited for the refreshment." Mahno said, trying to cover before he tipped the chalice back. The thick foamy slush dribbled across sharp teeth and a large tongue. It was sickeningly sweet and unusually chewy, to the point that he had to close his eyes just to swallow it down. He held the chalice for a moment before looking back at the king. "I taste nothing out of the ordinary, sire." he reported. The king smiled a little.

"So, there are some things you like after all, pet. Good, good." the king said, a large knuckled hand erupting from the sandy surface to take the chalice, tipping it back. He took a few gulps before holding it out for the dryad to refill, "Tartary is the best for encouraging strong hair growth, pet. I'd love to see you even hairier, just imagine how much more your beard could grow..." he growled happily, another shifting of sand revealing the king's swelling erection. Mahno tried not to look into the dryad's eyes, those seducingly green elvish eyes that remained despite his disguise as a dryad. Orirun gave the faintest of nods. They'd found him, that was step one, but there was still so much more to do.

****

Gentle hoofsteps punctuated Sagen's progress through the Moonwell Palace. Was it wise for a famed magician to be openly and defiantly sneaking into a governmental castle? No, but he had to hope his recent reduction in age would help keep him from being immediately recognized. The walls of the hallway were made of a rich redwood while the floor was a dark brown stone. The ceiling was enchanted, casting a warm gold-orange light like sunset in the forest. It would have been quite beautiful if it hadn't been the building in which someone was being held against their will.

As Sagen reached the end of the hallway he was in, he felt the increasingly familiar tingle of an anti-magic barrier. It crackled up through his thick brown hooves, his shapely and fit brown fur covered legs, his smooth and unblemished stomach and his pert, perky pectorals. The hair at the center of his chest and his goat tail both stood up on end as the satyr clenched his flaxon colored eyes shut, feeling the charge ripple through his neck, practically crackling as it passed through his long, soft brown hair from root to tip.

If the wizard had been using a magical disguise as he passed through such a ward, it would have, at best, removed the disguise. At worst, well, he was just thankful he had been cautious. Taking a quick right, the satyr passed into what the Breim city guide had described as the ancillary archives. The palace had been built to act as a meeting place at the end of the War of the Nine, acting more as an embassy than headquarters. Over the centuries it had been retrofitted, reshaped and redesigned a few times. It had been a palace in perpetuity, an over-glorified vacation home that the king had never deigned to visit... until now.

Sagen moved into the archives, eyes scanning over the floor to ceiling bookshelves. Some merely contained books, but entire portions were far deeper, disappearing back into the walls to hold large scrolls, tapestries, even artifacts. The one thing that they all held in common was... dust. There was actual dust in a royal library. Such a travesty spoke a lot about the current administration, though Sagen had to remind himself that was actually a good thing for his undercover mission.

With care and concern, the satyr started moving along the walls of the archives, trying to ascertain the filing system. If it was alphabetical, would it be alphabetical by author or subject? If it was chronological, all he had to do was figure out where the starting point was and find Blackmark from there. Sagen reached up to stroke his long, soft goatee in thought, his pointed ear twitching as he moved. He'd never considered himself that political, but there was something about the idea of bringing down a corrupt king that was a little thrilling. Perhaps it was a little leftover rebellion from going through second puberty again.

An echo sounded from somewhere in the distance, a heavy door shutting. Sagen froze, turning back towards the entrance to the archives. There was no door there, no barrier, but this had always been a risk. Sagen reached to his hip and withdrew two glass vials, one orange and one brown. He uncorked one and held it carefully, using his teeth to uncork the other. Without pausing for measurement, he poured the contents of one vial into the other until it started bubbling. Without much hesitation, he topped it back, golden-gray eyes once again squeezing shut in disgust as his face made several expressions of distaste.

Much as the anti-magical barrier had traveled over his body, a crackle of magic started at his head and began working its way down. His proud, curved satyr horns shimmered before dissolving into golden sparks, falling away from his head. His chestnut brown hair began to blanch and bleach, though not evenly. What had been a uniform pigmentation became splotchy and spotted with some darker circles resting over lighter brown hair. Freckles blossomed and then spread across his face, growing a little larger until they were distinctive spots.

A snap came, then a few pops. Sagen's nose suddenly flattened, the pointed tip blunting. The flesh around his nostrils seemed to grow softer and moser, his nostrils shrinking a little as they became more animalistic in nature. Fur bristled from his pointed ears before they, too, reshaped with the same unsettling sound of shifting cartilage. Points became rounded, his ears fanning out from his head, now brown and fuzzy. Sagen doubled forward, nearly dropping the vials. He only managed to hang on as his fingernails burst out into thick black claws, curving out of his fingers.

"...all this time, and they expect us to snap-to at a moment's notice." Someone's voice grew loud enough to be audible as they approached from the connecting hallway Sagen had not ventured down during his break in.

"It wouldn't be such a big change if you'd been doing what you were supposed to the whole time the king was away." Another smirked. Sagen winced, looking down at his hands as his fingertips and palms swelled into puffy paw pads, taking on a mottled leathery brownish black coloring. It felt uncomfortable, it looked rather interesting, but to Sagen's surprise he nearly laughed. He reached a paw up to his lips, stifling the sensation. That was, of course, the hyena half of the concoction he'd quickly dosed himself with.

The palace had been safeguarded against magic by some of the most reliable wards and spells that had ever been devised, but almost all of them were focused only on magic active at the time of contact. Sagen had brought in what he needed in separate parts, only combining them once he was in an area that was not monitored. A soft growl escaped the former satyr's stomach, the soft and smooth surface starting to protrude a little as a downy coating of spotted tan and brown fur sprouted across it, creeping up to the diamond of fur on his chest. Sagen's pits grew hairier as well, thickening tufts of hair sprouting outward, filling the air with an aroma of fresh mulch.

Something stirred under Sagen's loincloth and a strange, horny grin crossed his plumping, thickening lips. He tipped his head back, his goatee growing longer and fuller as new fuzzy sideburns sprouted from his cheeks. The hair was light, sandy brown in color. It was also quite thick and bristly, distinct as it curved out from his cheeks. One more strange crunch came as his goat tail stretched out longer, growing new bone segments as it took on a sort of bob tail.

"I'm not like you, Dave, I'm not a gnome polisher..." The first guard chided.

"If you did, you might not be put on housecleaning duties for the-" The second guard froze as he came up to the entrance to the archives and looked in to see a very fuzzy Kirit dusting one of the globes in the room. Kirits were a near human species, owing their heritage to hyenas and bears as much as humans. Sagen's shoulders were round and full, curved in all the right places and covered with spotted tan and brown fur. His sideburns and goatee were full enough that one might imagine using them as handles during a particularly rowdy blowjob, but both guards were drawn to the crest embossed on the kirit's leather loincloth, a golden footprint with a sun and moon orbiting it. They stiffened immediately.

"Sir, may we assist you, sir?" The prim and proper guard asked. A soft growl escaped Sagen's now fang filled maw, his hyena nostrils flaring as his bear inspired brow furrowed, his head turning to look at the two.

"You may assist me by telling me the last time someone was in here to curate the artifacts properly." Sagen said, his voice almost cracking as it gradually grew deeper, one of the last effects of the kirit potion.

"Uh, six months, perhaps, sir?" The first guard offered. Sagen's eyes narrowed and the growl that emanated from his chest was more felt than heard. The blond guard all but trembled, swallowing hard, "Or.... fourteen? Fourteen months, sir?" he amended. Sagen seemed to relax at that, finally hearing the truth. He nodded slowly, looking back to the globe.

"You are not the only ones to grow rusty from lack of proper policy. I have had to clean up more than one estate for his highness." Sagen said. At the insult, both guards started to rush forward, but Sagen raised a clawed paw and shook his head, "No, no. I will not have you rushing into this with something to prove either. Too many have been over-eager and destroyed precious relics in the process."

"What would you have of us, sir?" The second guard asked hesitantly. Sagen smiled a little, a smile that looked more predatory with his hybridized nose.

"Tomorrow, at sunrise, I want you here prepared to clean. We'll need angel's breath brushes and some lemon polish. In the meantime, I want you to go into town and find the oldest Kraken Whiskey you can find. I'll need something to soothe myself after getting started on this myself." Sagen said with a slight smile, though the expression was all an act. The gambit had been played, but there were countless ways it could go. To Sagen's infinite relief, both guards saluted before they turned and exited as promptly as they had come. A small part of him, most likely the kirit part, wanted to toy with them a bit more, maybe even see if either of them was interested in seeing just what he had under his loincloth, but that had to wait. Lives were on the line. Sagen only had until sunrise to find evidence of the king's misdeeds. If he was selecting werewolves from across Zago and indoctrinating them as his pets, only to burn them out within a year or two and have to select more, the kingdom needed to know.

****

To say Draeth had a complicated relationship with his family was an understatement. He'd been kidnapped by a demon that pretended to be his father and corrupted him with pseudo-incestuous hallucinations and very real transformations, only for said demon to legitimately fall in love with his real father and form a healthy, budding relationship. Draeth was used to being the fun loving, carefree bard that everyone turned to for a good time, but now his normally calm face was wrinkled by concern as he waited in the shadow of the palace.

The twenty six year old was the largest of his friends, standing at six foot four and weighing in nearly three hundred pounds. Some of that came from the bovine horns extending from his temples, even more from the milk that his udder balls seemed to continually produce that kept him in a perpetual state of semi-erection. Shaggy, unkempt brown hair stuck out from beneath a beanie hat, his dark brown stubble finally long enough to call a beard. He'd gone without his eyebrow ring in a hope to be less conspicuous, though if he held up his part of the plan, he was about to be anything but.

"There's my handsome boy..." A sultry, deep, infectious voice cooed. Draeth turned and, before he could turn away, a clawed hand held his face as the demon leaned in for a bearded kiss. A forked tongue plunged into Draeth's mouth and started thrusting in and out eagerly as if it was some kind of serpent. Draeth was filled with embarrassment, lust, longing and shame all at the same time, though his already immense erection seemed to come to full attention, pressing painfully against the confines of his pants.

Iago did not break the kiss, his claws digging in a little deeper to the stubble on Draeth's cheek as it stretched out longer and thicker. Every strand that he had grown doubled in length and thickness before they were joined by twice as many new strands. In moments the bard had gone from stubble beard to winter beard, sporting what had to have been a couple months of growth. Draeth finally broke the kiss, panting for breath, blushing beneath his dense facial foliage. His lips quivered as he tried to decide which emotion would come to the forefront. He set aside embarrassment and lust in favor of pragmatism.

"I think that's something we may have to play around with another time, but Mahno's life is in danger. I need you to make me a full minotaur so I can sneak in for the king's party. He's got a thing for big brutes." Draeth said.

"Don't we all..." Iago sighed wistfully before he sobered and nodded, "Full minotaur to save a life? I'm proud of you my boy." Iago said.

"And it can't be magic based, at least not conventional magic. There are safeguards." Draeth added. Iago grinned a bit, reaching up to stroke his thick beard.

"Oh trust me, son, my magic runs too deep, it reshapes a person's history, not the present." Iago boasted. As Draeth opened his mouth to ask how the demon planned to proceed, Iago grabbed Draeth's head, digging his clawed fingers into his shag of brown hair and pulled him to his chest. The demon's fat, plump nipple popped into the bard's mouth, surprising him. Draeth started to put two and two together, though, and gave the nipple a suck. He was rewarded instantly with silky, faintly spicy demon milk that soothed and tingled across his tongue at the same time.

A deep, reverberating growl escaped Iago's mouth as he used his clawed hand to hold his son to his pectoral, feeling the young man suckle and feed from him. Draeth was soon gulping at the bounty, feeling it coat his throat and pool in his large stomach. Iago snarled happily, his yellow eyes half lidded as he used his other hand to find the tattoo on Draeth's arm, dipping his claw into it. The tattoo that had once been the logo for a dwarf band reshaped for an instant into a demonic sigil before forming into something else, minoscript.

Iago could feel the possible histories that brushed up against Draeth's heritage, finding the ones that led back to the possibilities he wanted to play with. Nothing he did would ripple out very far in this instance, not changing the memories anyone had of Draeth. For that he'd need stronger rites and rituals, but it would get the job done. Some of the same elements that had given Draeth his bull horns and udder balls could be built upon. Considering his options, Iago decided in this alternative history that he had become an influence far earlier in Draeth's life, and that he himself had come from a far more minotauristic background. The effects were profound and powerful.

The suction on the demon's nipple became suddenly stronger, the muscles in Draeth's cheeks growing more powerful. The risk to the demon's flesh abated, however, as the bard's teeth flattened and smoothed out. Draeth couldn't help but drink the milk, needing it as fuel as his body began to tingle and grow. His face drew forward as he drank; his round chin pushing forward to a point, his jaw elongating and his upper lip stretching. Iago shifted a bit, feeling the unusual sensation as he focused on changing the right things.

Swallow by swallow, gulp by gulp, Draeth was growing. While he'd retained the size of his belly and his waist, his spine was lengthening, his legs and arms were stretching, and his fat was being outpaced by new muscles. His shirt began to strain, stretching tight as his arms thickened. Patches of brown fur began to sprout from his elbows, emerging as short tufts at first before growing longer. Iago stroked the back of Draeth's head, though he could feel the hair along the center of his son's scalp was getting tougher and more bristly. Sure enough, the pigmentation began to darken along the center, giving him a black crest that contrasted with his brown hair - or perhaps fur?

Draeth's ears popped a bit as the lobes shifted to teardrop shapes, twitching as they stretched out, fine brown fur sweeping over them. Large, plump lips continued to slurp and suckle at his father's teeth, Draeth involuntarily squishing his face against the mound of flesh even as his nose flattened and broadened, the nostrils becoming more leathery as a fine pelt of fur spread across his nose. The fur swept around his eyes, crossed his forehead and sunk into his mane of hair. While Draeth had been sporting a rather respectable beard thanks to his father's intervention, it soon seemed to be subsumed as just more brown fur covering his bovine head.

"That's some grade A beef, but I think I want a bit more." Iago said with a grin. He pulled back, leaving Draeth's now cow shaped head panting, eyes glazed with the glow of transformation and delicious demon milk, panting. Iago licked his lips before his clawed hand took a hold of his own belt and whipped it off. His loincloth fell, revealing his pulsating, throbbing, almost steaming hot shaft. Iago triumphantly grabbed Draeth by both of his minotaur horns and pulled him down, plunging his cock deep into his step-son's muzzle. With one powerful thrust into the back of his mouth, Iago's lips twitched and he began to unleash his potent demonic seed.

Stitches popped along Draeth's shirt, his shoulders suddenly expanding too fast to be constrained. The fabric tore apart, revealing fur covered flesh, Draeth's black crest of hair traveling down his neck and half way down his spine. The hair thinned out a little as it nearly reached the small of his back, but there the muscle beneath his skin grew thicker again, tapering together into a growing mound of flesh just above his waistband. The growth stretched longer and longer without getting wide, burning with heat as calcium, collagen and phosphate recombined into new bones. As one new segment formed, new ligaments and muscles stretched over it. The tail descended down behind Draeth's tight pants until, at last, a tuft of black bristle hair just like the crest on his head sprouted from the tip.

Iago watched every spurt of his semen feed his son's growth, seeing Draeth surge to seven feet tall, then eight. The last remnants of his shirt sleeves burst as his arms bloated out to hulking, bulging muscular trunks of fur covered flesh. His fingers flexed as they grew fatter and longer, hanging down farther past his waist than any human. Draeth's growth forced the minotaur to hunch over more to keep drinking his father's cum, and just the slightest bit of flexing forced Draeth's pants to finally burst, revealing his big, furry cow ass into the light of day. As the cool air rushed in, the sudden temperature change quaked around Draeth's manhood, forcing his eyes to widen in surprise before rolling into the back of his head. Despite the shock, he continued to drink Iago's corrupted cum.

It stretched out like a snake rising to attention. In moments it grew wider and wider, like a tree developing its rings over years. It had been a pinkish red to start, but as Draeth's cock grew larger, it began to take on a darker pigmentation. His human flesh became a rich dark brown hide. While Draeth hadn't quite been human in that department for some time, all lingering traces of humanity left as he developed a firm medial ring around the middle of his cock, the head of it blunted flat and flared out with a rim, and his urethra puffed out to give the member even more flair. It was no longer a private part to be hidden away. It was the weapon of a minotaur to be praised and envied, to be wielded as the warrior saw fit.

Iago started to bite his lower lip, bracing himself and focusing. It was taking every bit of his strength to keep going. He used Draeth's minotaur horns to pull him forward and back, thrusting a few more times, ensuring that every drop of his demonic seed was being used. A snap came from somewhere below them, then a pop, then a tearing sound. Draeth's shoes had burst apart as his feet grew out in all directions, betraying that he had gone without any socks. His toes, at least what was left of them, tried to wiggle but they were being meshed together by webs of skin that spread out along with his growing feet, providing a foundation before the keratin forming his toenails surged outward.

For a moment it looked as if Draeth had stepped in some sort of silky grayish brown mud. The liquid seemed to shift and move into place before it began to harden and cure, taking on a milky translucence. Draeth's posture grew taller and firmer as his feet formed into hooves. The light brown fur came right down to where the boney armor started. His long tail flicked, his massive cock dribbled, and at last Iago's orgasm subsided. The demon stumbled back and then fell onto his ass, sweaty and spent, panting hard. He slowly lifted his head up, glowing yellow eyes looking at the minotaur he had crafted.

Steam blasted from huge nostrils now pierced by a thick steel ring. A long cow tongue slurped out to clean the cup from bovine lips, revealing six metal beads pierced along its length. While Draeth's beard was indistinguishable from his fur in color, the fur was certainly wilder and unkempt along his jawline than most minotaurs sported. Even Draeth's customary eyebrow ring had returned, though now it had two spikes on the metal loop. A hand tipped by hooflettes reached down, giving his two foot long bovine cock a good stroke of appreciation, feeling its heat and heft, its veins and its ridges.

"Am I good, or am I good?" Iago murmured, "Is it what you had in mind, son?" he asked, still panting. Draeth grinned, finding it surprising how fast he was warming up to his new body.

"I think it's just what I need to get an invitation to the king's court and to provide an ample distraction..." Draeth said with a grin.

****

Firelight was only more entrancing when it reflected off of the cyan feathers of an exotic danger. The young avian's beak had been painted to contrast his plumage, his breast looking sinfully soft as his wings flexed and folded in undulating patterns. Tail feathers rose and fell with the beats of the music filling the throne room and orange talons carefully gripped the edges of the stone tiles, allowing the danger to turn on a dime. There was something about how juicy the dancer's thighs were that made the king unsure if he wanted to eat the bird or fuck him. Surely the carnal urges were from his werewolf side.

At that thought, Tanirun's eyes drifted over for a moment to where Mahno was standing at the edge of the throne. His bodyguards tended to become so subdued when they wore the collar. Such was to be expected with their conscription, he supposed, but sometimes he longed more for a partner, a companion than just a servant. If they had been alone he might have tried to pry some morsel out of the were-beast at his side, but he was not alone. The avian was performing for regents and perfunctories, city dignitaries and other officials that had come out to welcome the king to Breim. The coastal city was so very far from the capital, it was a rare honor - and one that came with a fair degree of opulence.

The tables weren't just loaded down with food, they were dotted with delicacies both foreign and borderline illegal. Some were from endangered creatures, others from nations that Zago was practically at war with. Fairy servants moved around, offering food to the king's guests and ensuring they were properly satisfied. The doors to the throne room shuddered every time more guests were allowed entrance, though they creaked a little as they were opened to their fullest extent to grant entrance to a particularly tall, particularly large minotaur.

Tanirun slowly sat upright in his throne, eyes widening as he caught sight of the minotaur. He'd always felt drawn to masculine men, no doubt the influence of his werewolf bodyguards, but there was nothing comparing to this beefy man before him... His loincloth utterly failed to hide the monster member behind it, let alone the overstuffed, over-full udder balls he possessed. His fur was healthy and thick and he sported quite a few piercings that signified a clear defiance to society and a tolerance for pain. His huge horns looked like handlebars and the king just wanted to ride them.

"Welcome!" The bigfoot said before he rose to his large feet, a hand moving to smooth down his beard as it reached almost all the way down to his navel, "Welcome to my court. I do not believe I've had the pleasure of meeting you before." he said. Draeth tried not to let the shock stun him enough to give up his cover, though he did come to a stop on his large hooves. The king had not singled any other guests out in such a fashion so all of them had turned to look at him. Draeth opened his muzzle to speak. He strained to think of a name, nearly blurting out 'Mahnotaur' before he corrected at the last second.

"I am Milotaur, Taurinsky, of the Breim Taurinskys..." He said as if that explained everything. Looking around, Draeth spotted the refreshment table in the corner, "No doubt you're drinking some of my family's finest." he amended hopefully before he resumed walking towards them all. The king sized the minotaur up, a lecherous grin crossing his bearded face.

"Perhaps we could sample more directly from the finest your family has to offer, perhaps from the source?" Tanirun asked. Draeth forced a cocky grin, running his long, pierced tongue along his bovine lips.

"It would be rude of me not to indulge the king's request, but the night is still young." Draeth said, scanning the crowd. He spotted Ori off to one side, a little surprised that the elf-turned-dryad was sporting several wildflowers in his greenish-blond hair that looked as if they were starting to bloom. Looking back towards the king, it was hard not to notice Mahno by his side, sporting a black loincloth and a black collar, looking almost as much a bigfoot as werewolf. Whatever the king had done, it had brought the street urchin a lot closer to being the same as the king himself.

"They say time flies when you're having fun... Feast, dance, and before long the night will have aged to the morning." Tanrirun said, not taking his eyes off of Draeth. He wanted meat, and he couldn't think of anything more tasty than minotaur steak.

****

There was a deep sense of irony that Sagen could hear the distant bass of the party, he could practically feel the vibrations of the dance moves, and he was ensconced in a royal library. Sure, he'd had to study hard to become a wizard, but he'd always been a satyr. To miss out on a party felt counter to his blood, to his heritage, even if it was a party conducted by a corrupt king in a great line of corrupt kings. Sagen sighed, reaching to scratch his fuzzy ear, wincing a bit at how sharp his claws were. Apparently combining a hyena with a bear left for some pretty dangerous talons.

Sagen's eyes were feeling a bit parched from all the reading he had been doing. The wizard nearly set aside the tome he'd been reading from to grab another when a familiar passage caught his eyes. His furry brow furrowed as he read an anecdote that Tanirun had shared about his childhood and the time he'd gotten ochre fever and had been sent away to heal up where the clean air of the mountains could cleanse his system. He read it twice, then three times, feeling the fur starting to stand up on the back of his neck.

It wasn't just the fact that ochre fever had practically been eliminated by the time that Sagen had been born that concerned him most, nor the fact that he felt like he had heard the story about someone being sent away to heal at a mountain retreat. It was the fact that he'd read the same passage, almost word for word, in a completely different book far earlier in the evening. Sagen moved back over to the red wood shelves, backpedaling song the walls. He had learned that they had been organized by chronology, making the left side of the library some of the earliest entries.

The wizard retraced his steps to find the old leather-bound book. The spine had aged and browned, but as he withdrew it, the covers were still a dark turquoise color. He returned to the central table with the older book and filtered through the pages, finding it again. His eyes moved from one book to the other. It hadn't been a close match, it was an exact match. The books were biographies written by different scribes, but the story in each was taken directly from the king...

A sinking feeling welled up in the pit of Sagen's stomach. He closed his eyes, thinking back through everything he'd known about the king before he filed that away, thinking instead of what he knew about magic relics. The king had been taking werewolves as bodyguards, all of whom were winding up to be incredibly short lived, something that was incredibly unlikely for a species that healed as rapidly and consistently as they did. It couldn't even be mistreatment for it to happen so regularly, or for them to resort to pulling unknown werewolves off the street... it had to be intentional, to have a form and a function, to serve a purpose - to serve the king.

"He's siphoning their healing, their life force... Tanirun Osec is Osric Osec..." Sagen whispered in the horror of realization. Such relics were forbidden at the highest order because they were not just corruptive but destructive. The laws of diminishing returns would only grow more stringent over the years. If Mahno was the king's current battery, he might not have more than a few months if he was lucky.

Sagen closed the turquoise bok and bundled up the orange book as well, tucking them under his arms. He lunged toward the archway, building up momentum, making it almost all of the way there before his mind snapped back to the magical defense system that was placed through the castle. He tried to bring himself to a stop, but his paws were not as definitive as his hooves would have been, and his increased mass as a hyena bear worked to his disadvantage. Sagen started to stumble, then tripped, toppling forward.

As the bristled mane of his muzzled head passed the archway, Sagen felt the crackling, burning power of the anti-magical barrier starting to ensnare him... but as he started to feel the stinging sensation of pins and needles, Sagen's heart skipped a beat as a terrified realization gripped his heart. The barrier wasn't removing his disguise, it wasn't even punishing him for using an active magic spell... Sagen winced as his spotted brown fur began to sink deeper into his flesh, flesh that was growing thicker and more leathery. His back arched in pain at first, but then a sickening pop and snap came as his ribs began to curve and elongate. Sagen tipped his head back to let out a howl of pain, but what escaped was a bifurcated yelping laugh. His fingers flexed and curled in pain and discomfort as they shortened, making his paws more square. His elbows ached and his shoulders throbbed as they reoriented, restricting his movement to narrower margins.

Writhing, sprawled on the floor, Saen felt his sapience being sapped away. The anti-magical ward was doing its best to remove a threat, but it wasn't sure what Sagen was supposed to be. His disguise had been too good and now he was paying the ultimate price. His tunic grew baggier, hanging off of his reshaping torso like a tent. His pants got bunched up as his knees angled back, his legs shortening and constricting. His back arched higher, the crest of bristles running across his head crept down his neck. Features of his proto muzzle had been a fusion of hyena, bear and satyr, but now his skull was losing what humanity it had before. His jaw pushed out longer and longer, his black leathery nose growing more moist. He sniffed and snorted, smelling no man and no satyr, merely the beast he was becoming.

With a few more sickening pops and snaps, Sagen's reversion was complete. He was still a good two hundred pounds, a bit heavier than he'd been as a mortal man, but now he was but a creature. He was stuck on all fours, a short tail bobbing above narrow ass cheeks. A leathery, furry pouch of orange sized balls swung between his hind legs and a plump sheath wobbled below a gaunt belly. Sagen looked down at himself, seeing the animal he was trapped as. Speech would no doubt be beyond him at this point, but he still had to help. All he had to do was figure out how Mahno's life force was being conducted to the king. Every conduit had a start and termination point.

The hyena-bear moved over, meticulously tipping one book onto its spine with his nose before scooting the other over and tipping it up, stretching his maw over both. There was little doubt he'd be defiling both books with fang prints, no doubt a crime to some archivists, but there were bigger fish to fry.

Sagen's claws clicked on the stone floor as he began to pad off along the hallway, getting used to his new life as a four legged beast. Maybe if he was lucky he'd get scraps left over from Drath's dinner, or Ori would give him scritches on his wiry chin. He'd had a long and interesting life, perhaps this would be a strange form of retirement... but first he had to save a life, to prove that kirits really could be werewolf's best friends.

****

Everything felt off, and not just because of the high stakes situation they were all in. Ori was feeling the downside to his Dryad disguise. The potent spores that had transformed him were, of course, plant based. They required sunlight, water, maybe even some hearty minerals and tasty dirt... Ori had focused on the mission, doing his due diligence, trying to save Mahno. He'd acted as a scout as best he could, maneuvering himself into a trusted position. He felt as though Mahno had recognized him, but he hadn't been able to act on it. However much of that was situational and how much of that was whatever spell the king had him under, Ori didn't know.

The dryad lingered near the refreshments table, refilling the drinks of the guests. He recognized a few of the people from around the city, but mostly they were strangers. Ori had always felt as though Breim was this well oiled machine that operated with limited oversight from the government, autonomous other than taxes and laws. He'd never realized just how much of a good thing that had been when seeing the upper crust of society was like. Ori also had endured more than his fair share of touches and gropes from the patrons, all of them finding his pliant green skin and his tendril hair appealing and exotic.

For just a moment, Ori thought the nudge at his ankle was yet another unwelcome advance until he realized that, barring gnomes, there weren't any guests quite that short at the party. Ori looked down to see a slightly larger than dog sized hyena-bear. Ori's jaw dropped open as he saw something familiar in the eyes; a sapience, an urgency. Ori crouched down, looking at the beast more closely. The hyena bear was panting softly but it nodded its head over to two books on the floor, slicked with a fair amount of saliva. Ori pet Sagen's mane softly, feeling his heart ache even more.

"I don't think that's a turn anyone expected..." Ori whispered, slinking under the table before drawing the books with him. He opened them up, starting with the turquoise one before he looked back at Sagen, "I don't suppose you can tell me which page, huh?' he asked. Sagen growled a little unhappily.

"Milotaur, it's a very strong name for a very strong man..." The king's voice boomed from across the room. The king once again rose to his feet, stretching taller and taller. He towered over most of his guests, though Draeth was clearly one of his only rivals. The king strode forward, closing the gap between them before he lifted a hand clad in countless rings, resting it on Draeth's chest. He gave one of the minotaur's pectorals a girm grope before reaching down to circle his nipple with calloused fingers. "I could use some more dairy in my diet." he said happily.

"I'm not sure I could leave my family business, sire, there are a lot of people depending on me." Draeth countered. The king licked his lips, a bit intrigued by the idea of anyone playing hard to get.

"I could ensure that they were more than fairly compensated. Royal income, stipends, even servants to fill in what must be done. But to you I could offer a life of exquisite luxury, of creature comforts, of living only to give and receive pleasure." Tanirun whispered, leaning closer, nuzzling the edge of his beard against Draeth's muzzle fur, "Plus the most carnal magics you can imagine... You think you know the pleasure of being milked from four teats? Imagine how good it would feel to have eight? To have your cock spewing cream for hours at a time? And your size, you are but a calf compared to what I could make you..." Tanirum whispered so low that only Draeth could hear.

Draeth did not respond immediately, making it look as though he was considering the offer. Some tiny part of him kind of liked the idea. He was bigger than he'd ever been in every way one could be big, and the idea that it was a drop in the bucket? It was enough to make his immense minotaur meat start slipping out from behind the cover of his loincloth. As if reciprocating, the king's own bigfoot shaft was similarly rising to attention... Draeth had to remind himself, however, that he was here as a distraction. His eyes scanned the throne room, pausing only momentarily when he spotted Orirun under a table with some sort of furry dog-bear? No, hyena bear... a feral kirit, Sagen's disguise. Something had clearly not gone to plan, but if they were together that meant they were close to an answer. Draeth took a deep breath, turned, and leaned in to kiss the king.

Cheers erupted from the crowd as the beefy minotaur and the hairy bigfoot embraced. Draeth all but gasped as two leathery hands suddenly gripped his huge cock and started jacking him off in front of everyone. He pulled back, gasping. The king grinned, betraying teeth that were too sharp compared to those of most bigfeet, but Draeth forced himself to reach out and return the favor, grabbing the king's cock. The two began to slide their hands up and down, back and forth,working up their rhythm.

"You know what? Why wait?" Tanirun murmured before nodding his head to one of his fairy attendants. A purple haired young man moved out, a split violet mustache angling around his pert lips. He came over beside them and slipped two delicate hands with painted nails under Draeth's loincloth. As the soft fingers touched his swollen udders, Draeth gasped suddenly, gnashing his blunt bovine teeth. His eyes started to roll into the back of his head as the milk inside began to fill even faster, stretching the already sensitive flesh. A green and pink haired pair of fairies swept in, removing the minotaur's loincloth entirely, revealing his udders for the scintillated crowd to watch.

Draeth forced himself to look down, seeing each side of his udder balls swelling to the size of watermelons, then larger still. His beefy, powerful legs were strong enough to support them, but the warmth they radiated was slipping down his thighs. Draeth wobbled suddenly as his teats began to swell and firm, stretching out, each one larger and fatter than his cock had been back when he'd been a lowly human, and soon he felt the tingling ache of four more teats forming around the huge radius of his udders. The king chuckled wantonly before he signaled for several of his guests to advance around the minotaur.

Thirsty lips plunged down around sensitive teats, taking them in one by one. Some of the party guests were gentle, others were desperate. Some went fast, some slow. Some teeth were sharp, some mouths were slimy, but all of them wanted his milk. Amid it all, Tanirum stood there with a huge grin as his leathery hands worked Draeth's immense minotaur cock, stroking it up and down with a hypnotic regularity. The king wondered to himself how many milking sessions it might take to turn this beefy man into his own personal milk cow. Perhaps he'd use him to start a royal dairy, get a whole barn full of sexy milk producing men to feed him and his servants.

As the king plotted and machinated, Mahno started to wince. The collar felt tighter around his throat, as if the leather was burning his flesh despite the fur barrier between the two. He reached up, clawed fingers trying to clutch at it, though as they got close he winced with sudden electric pain. Mahno panted harder, hunching forward a little, feeling more and more exhausted by the second. The motion was enough to catch Orirun's attention, looking out from under the table. He had seen Mahno try to get the collar off, then followed his gaze over to the king conducting Draeth's public milking. For a king, he wore very little aside from his crown... a crown that had remained unchanged for centuries.

Ori's green eyes went back to the pair of books under the table. Despite being unable to speak, Sagen had used his paws and his hyena guffaws to indicate when Ori was close. He'd put together the logic as Sagen had, that Tanirun was just Osric Osec pretending to be his own descendant. Seeing Mahno try to get his collar off and getting weak as the king got more excited only cemented the idea. Orirun slipped out from under the refreshment table, rising up to his bare, green feet. He strode with a fluid grace across the throne room, ignoring the cluster of individuals gulping down Draeth's minotaur milk and the even larger gaggle watching with glee at the debauchery of it all.

Mahno tried to raise his head as Ori approached, barely able to meet eyes with him. Ori slipped around behind him and reached up, his nimble fingers feeling along the edge of the collar. He could feel no seams, no buckles or snaps. It had no doubt sealed itself magically, creating a perfect circle - a circle as perfect as the one in the king's crown. Ori could reach up to Mahno's neck, but it was still a bit of a stretch. He'd been the taller one in their relationship to begin with, but as a werewolf-bigfoot hybrid, his neck was just too far out of reach. He tried to look around for a stepstool when he saw Sagen padding over on all fours.

As if sensing the need, Sagen lowered his head, nuzzling it against Orirun's feet. Ori stepped up onto the kirit's strong back. The dryad balanced carefully, bracing his knees against Mahno's back as he inched upward. Even if Mahno had been inclined to fight off his boyfriend, he was too tired to resist. Standing here was about all he could manage. Ori got high enough behind Mahno to press his fingers against the base of the collar. Testing it a little, he was relieved to see the collar only fought the person wearing it from removing it. Focusing, Ori grabbed some of his long, waxy dryad hair, bringing it closer.

Mahno inhaled slightly as he felt the tiny plant tendrils creeping between his collar and his fur, inching underneath before sliding up and looping around. They acted as plants often did, finding tiny crevices and making them larger. The tendrils grew wider as they gained purchase, trying to pry it apart without choking Mahno. The leather stretched a little and then started to strain. Orirun didn't have to wonder if it was working. It was as if a loud sound had gone off that only Tanirun, Mahno, and the fairies could hear. All of them had frozen in place, possibly out of sheer shock. Tanirun's face tightened, the more simian-like aspects of his bigfoot expression hardening as he turned around, his eyes shifting to an angry amber as he spotted Mahno and the dryad behind him.

"Seize him!" Tanirun commanded, although no one moved. The guests were confused by the sudden command and disruption to their pleasure and those that Tanirun normally would have commanded were not responding. The three fairies looked puzzled for a moment before their faces darkened and they looked up at the king in growing disgust. Tanirun took a step back from Draeth, his erection softening rapidly as shock and fear overcame him. He snarled with mounting anger instead."Fine, I'll do it myself." he snarled.

Orirun bore down, doing his best to try and break or snap the collar, feeling the floor vibrate as the king strode toward him. Forced to make a choice between acting as step stool for Ori or giving him more time to do what needed done, Sagen lunged out from beneath the Dryad's feet, pouncing at the king. The bigfoot yelped in shock, tumbling backwards as the hyena bear hit him square in the chest. Sagen snapped and growled, spitting saliva all over the king's robust beard. Tanirun growled in anger, grabbing Sagen by the scruffy fur on his stomach and hurled him to the side. The former satyr yelped and whimpered as he hit the floor and skidded.

"You come into my castle, you play with things you could not possibly comprehend..." Tanirun said as he rose back to his ample feet, chest rising and falling as his fingernails stretched out into claws, his round ears taking on points. Thicker fur bristled along his spine as his nose darkened and grew moist. Tusky like fangs curved out of the corners of his mouth as his face stretched into a muzzle. A wet, fibrous sound came as a thick tail unfurled itself from his back, growing fuller and thicker in moments. Bones and ligaments popped as his legs splayed out wider, his shoulders broadening. In moments the king had gone from being a bigfoot to being a big footed werewolf.

"You are right, we didn't comprehend just how evil you were when we came to rescue Mahno, but it didn't take long for us to figure it out. There is no Tanirun Osec, nor Altine Osec, or any of them all the way back to Osric Osec. You used the healing powers and life force of werewolves to live forever, using them up like batteries. You kidnapped and conscripted, you fed off of them to keep yourself in power..." Ori said, growling as he dug his heels into Mahno's waist, using his vines to try and pry the collar apart. Tanirun snarled and roared, an action which caused many of the party guests to scream and run away, fleeing out of the throne room.

"You know what they say, long live the king..." Tanirun said before he moved to swipe a clawed paw at both Mahno and Ori, but a huge, leathery hand with hoof-like fingernails wrapped around his wrist.

"No one attacks my friends." Draeth growled, grabbing at the king's hip. Tanirun charged, slamming into Draeth, forcing the minotaur to skid back a few feet. The two grappled and clutched at each other, wrestling for dominance. If it hadn't been a life or death situation, it might have been hot, but Tanirun was becoming quite aware that his own life was more on the line than it ever had been before.

"Hang on Mahno, I just have to figure out how to get this collar off..." Ori pleaded, practically using his own body weight levered against the werewolf's waist to pry the collar off. Despite the dryad's best efforts, he was starting to choke his boyfriend. Mahno reached up to try and claw at the collar, only to be zapped by the field. He growled, claws scraping against the floor.

Across the room, Sagen slowly got back up to all fours, panting. One of his ribs was bruised, at least he assumed it was. He wasn' familiar with quadrupedal anatomy as much as he'd like. He looked over at Ori and Mahno struggling to get the collar off, then at Draeth wrestling the king. There had to be a way he could help. He had claws that might cut through the leather collar, but how was he supposed to get up that high? He turned, looking back at the king, seeing the glinting of the lights on the king's crown. Sagen started to pant as an idea crystalized. It wasn't just the collar, it was the collar and the crown. The two formed a parasitic connection.

Sagen lowered his head to the ground and broke into a sprint, building up speed. What few party guests remained shrieked as the hyena-bear jumped onto the minotaur's back, using it as a ramp to climb up higher and higher. Sagen brought his muzzle down, fans latching around the trips of the crown before he pushed off Draeth's shoulders and sailed through the air. Mahno gasped suddenly, his back flexing and his spine straightening as strength and vitality came rushing back to him. Ori toppled back onto the floor with a grunt of surprise, his tendrils snapping off from his body weight. Not wasting the opportunity, Draeth reached up with both paws, claws digging under the edge of the collar. White electricity began to arc and crackle between his fingers and the collar, but Mahno put up with the pain. He dug at it, wedging his claws underneath before he turned his fingers around, braced his knuckles against his neck and pushed outward. The leather resisted for only a moment before it snapped.

A sudden blaze of copper red fire erupted in the throne room, forming a blazing chain between Mahno and the king. The bigfoot werewolf fell to his knees, the color draining from his fur. His long beard turned gray, then white, then translucent. The rich brown of his hide blanched until he looked like a yeti. The firm, fit leathery skin he'd boasted for so many years grew dry, thin, wrinkled, and then fragile. His eyes glazed over with cataracts, becoming milky spheres. . His rings began to topple from his hands as his fingers became bony and arthritic, and as his wispy white fur began to shed from his stomach, a long forgotten set of scars began to return from beneath his pectorals. A wheezing, weak whine came from his lungs as they tried to function until, at last, the king toppled to the floor of the chamber.

Stunned silence came from Draeth and Ori until, after a moment, they turned to look at Mahno. Standing near the back of the throne room was a six foot two, twenty two year old street urchin with strawberry blond mutton chops and a short black mohawk, his pointed ears one of the few signs that he was a werewolf. Mahno wobbled a bit, looking down as the royal loincloth fell down to pol around his feet. It had been tied for a much larger creature. Deciding he didn't have time to worry about it, he turned and grabbed Ori's wrist, pulling his boyfriend up to his feet.

"You look good in green, but if my life in the streets has taught me anything, you don't stick around a crime scene even if your disguises are good." Mahno said, glancing over at Draeth, "Lead the way, big guy." he said. Draeth gave a nod, turning back towards the main hallway. The minotaur lowered his head, letting out a snort from his pierced nose before he began to charge.

****

Late afternoon sun shone through the windows of the Terramagica shop, ringing the purple and orange stained glass octopus window to blazing molten life. The shop remained closed. Ori had used a rudimentary spell to make the windows appear milky from the outside while still allowing them to look out, not that there was much to look at. The streets were practically deserted. Everyone was glued to their television screens. Ori sat on a bench, picking the last few vines out of his hair now that it had returned to its natural blond color. A few mottled patches of green remained on his otherwise pearlescent elvish skin.

"King Tanirun Osec remains in critical condition at Breim's Cedar Heights Hospital, though no official statement has been given. Rumors continue to fly regarding the king's sudden aging and the assassins that had targeted him, though others have suggested that the attack was performed in some sort of self defense." A reporter's voice echoed from the glowing sphere sitting on the counter by the register, "This is Orchid Burbank of Breim city news. We will have continuing coverage of the King's attack with updates as they develop." the voice said before the oracle went dark again.

"This isn't good..." Draeth said, slumped in the high backed chair. He'd returned mostly to normal thanks to his stepfather, although it seemed to have been a rush job as they tried to get out of sight and out of their disguises as swiftly as possible. Draeth's minotaur horns were still full size and he seemed to be favoring his udder balls after they'd been milked by so many people simultaneously at the party. Added to that, he hadn't figured out how to remove the thick nose ring from his nostrils and his face was framed by a short, shaggy brown beard now.

"I don't think anyone's going to be looking for me for a while. I was never on any official documents and you have my recruitment letter right here." Mahno said, moving over to bring Ori another glass of the noxious brown antispore medicine. Ori reluctantly accepted it, braced himself for the metallic taste and tipped it back, wincing sharply and making a face as the wildflower above his left ear began to wilt.

"I think I had one of the better disguises as well, but Draeth, you're going to need to lay low unless you think your dad can get you closer to normal." Ori said. A whimper came from Ori's feet and the elf looked down at the unhappy kiri. Ori leaned forward to pet his boss between his ears, "And we'll see if he knows a way to turn you back too." Ori added.

"We may not be entirely alone in this. I think the fairies were conscripted too." Mahno said, sitting down next to Ori, "I think part of that peace summit that ended the War of the aNine was Osec maneuvering everything into place. He must have used fairy magic to make the collar and the crown, but I think he turned it back on them as well. That was a lot of magic for a bigfoot to be wielding without a dedicated wizard." Mahno said. A stifled hyena laugh came from Sagen as he snuggled against the legs of the elf and the werewolf, deciding a nap felt appropriate.

"They would have been with the king a lot longer, we just have to persuade them to share the truth. Combined with what we found, things will blow over eventually. We just have to bide our time, be careful, and make sure the weight of history doesn't land on our heads." Ori said. He reached up and rubbed at Mahno's arm softly, looking into his boyfriend's eyes, "I'm sorry it took us so long to save you." he said softly. Mahno grinned a little at that.

"Hey, I'm still here, aren't I?" Mahno grinned,leaning over to give Ori a kiss, although he grinned a little extra as he pulled back, "Minty...." he considered.

"Hey!" Ori half joked before he snuggled up against Mahno, resting his head on his lover's shoulder. They'd all been through a lot in the last few months; multiple kidnappings, transformations, quests and adventures, but something told him that toppling the government of an entire nation and nearly killing a king that had been alive for countless generations was going to be hard to beat. Ori looked up at the stained glass purple and orange octopus that guarded the Terramagica, hoping that it would extend its protection around all those that he cared about.