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The chamber was warm with a lit fireplace. The burn of the fire lit up the room, its orange glow touching every unread book on the shelves. Mercia swung open the mahogany chamber doors and walked inside. Derrie followed behind her fellow princess, carrying with her a mirror with a wooden cover on the front. Derrie held it carefully, worried that the coarse wood would give her splinters. She didn't know why her gracious host didn't ask a servant to bring the mirror. Mercia walked to a table underneath a chandelier and stripped her hands of her silk gloves, laying them down on the table. There were gold bracelets around her left arm and silk cloths hanging off her right-- items that she had "bought" at the local market. She removed the bracelets and let the clothes slide off her arm onto the table. Derrie set the mirror down by a stool and looked around the chamber. "This is [i]your[/i]library, correct? I would have assumed it was your servants' with how small it is." Mercia cocked her lips. "The library is smaller to make room of the castle's [i]larger[/i] ballroom. Which is why festivities are held in here instead of your kingdom's ugly mount of a castle." Derrie scoffed and crossed her arms. "Daddy doesn't need to throw festivities for nearby royal families because he rules through [i]strength[/i]." "He would have to," said Mercia, smirking, "You're family is certainly not going to win over the kings and queens of the realm with charm." Derrie scoffed again, looking at the bracelets on the table. She walked over, almost pushing Mercia out of the way. Derrie picked up one of the bracelets. "Quite beautiful. What do you know? Your kingdom [i]can[/i] product great art!" "You can take it if you wish," said Mercia. She thought about adding a crack at Derrie's kingdom lacking arts and jewelry but the princess was losing her breath making up so many insults. Derrie picked up the bracelet and slid it on her arm. It fit like a glove, or something close to it. It looked quite nice and when Mercia looked over at her guest's arm, and how the bracelet shone in the room light, she had to admit it fit the princess well. Derrie walked around the room, getting a look at all the bookshelves and the wallpaper and all the details of the library. It was a rather small library but the roof was master-crafted with its dome shape having many details around its form. "That's right," said Derrie. "You haven't shown me to my room yet." She snerked. "I hope I'm given something better than a [i]barn[/i]." Mercia scowled. "It is a [i]lovely[/i] room that rivals my own in terms of beauty and comfort." She was the silk cloths on the table and picked one up, holding in front of herself. It was a lovely shade of near-white blue. Mercia could almost imagine how perfect it would look at the edge of her bed or by a washing basin. Derrie checked her arm again, twisting it to see how well it looked. She was having trouble getting a good grasp on how it would appear to others, so she turned her sight to the mirror she left on the floor. She knew Mercia wouldn't be damned to pick up the mirror herself so Derrie had to walk over and fetch it. "Where were you going to hang this?" asked Derrie, taking the mirror in her hands. Mercia hadn't considered that. She took the mirror just out of pure want-- no plans to actually use the thing. She looked around her room. Most walls were occupied by bookshelf space or by pictures. There was little empty space, but there was a canvas stand in the corner so she went over to get it and brought it back to the table with the bracelets. She set it up so that its sturdy structure stood high. Mercia said, "Put it on here." Derrie walked over and put the mirror down on the standing, having to flip it over when she realized she put it down on the mirror's decorative crown atop the glass. The wooden panelling meant to protect the glass was tied on with a few strings, which Derrie and Mercia joined forces to untie from the back of the mirror. When they released the last string, the wooden board fell forward, flipping off the table onto the carpet. "Careful!" Mercia shouted at Derrie, like it was the visiting princess' fault. "I didn't do that!" said Derrie. She huffed. "I suppose it wasn't fastened as tightly as I thought it was." It was no matter. The wooden board was off revealing a beautiful mirror framed with orante decorate framing. Some of the detail was actual gold, Mercia suspected. Derrie thought it was painted gold but she was no alchemist and couldn't be sure. Although some dust covered the mirror, with a good wipe it would be as good as perfect. It was [i]eerie[/i] how perfect the reflective glass was. "It's quite pretty," said Derrie, grinning at the hosting princess. "Yes," said Mercia. "How did you know it was so pretty?" asked Derrie. It was about an hour earlier that Mercia, while taking Derrie around town, passed by a stall in the market. Many stalls had beautiful jewelry for Mercia to "purchase", but a haggard old woman had a stall of beautiful jewelry and furnishings, including that mirror. Thinking about that ugly woman caused both princesses to gag, but perhaps the uncomely woman possessed such beautiful craftwork to compensate for her lack of physical beauty. Mercia didn't know the mirror was so pretty. Very little of its details could be made out with the wooden board tired over it. She wanted it because it was the largest thing there and was likely the thing that cost the most. It turned out that the mirror was quite an asset to any room. "When you have lived in fine living for as long as I have," said Mercia, "you get a sense for these things." The two stared at the mirror, making note of the other girl's facial mars. As they looked into it, the room in the reflection turned dark. Mercia lifted her eyes for a moment to see if something was wrong with the lights but there was no issue. In the real world, the room was still brightly lit. She looked back into the mirror and saw the room reflected in the glass was overcome by menacing shadows. Derrie reached out and scratched the glass of the mirror. "Is this mirror made of some kind of special quartz?" Mercia slapped Derrie's hand. "Don't mar the piece with your barbaric fingerprints!" Derrie shook her hand and took it away, sticking her tongue out at Mercia for a moment. Their attention turned to the mirror when the framing appeared to glow. It looked like it was growing brighter. After taking a few seconds of it, both Mercia and Derrie were [i]certain[/i]that the detail was glowing. Mercia stood up and tried pulling herself away, but her eyes were stuck on the glass. No matter how hard she tried, her muscles would not allow her to look away. It was trouble enough [i]blinking[/i]. Her eyes stayed open like they wanted her to see what was in the mirror. "Mercia..." said Derrie, her voice strained, "I... I... cannot look away from this mirror." She growled. "Did your servants prepare poisonous food!? I am paralyzed." Mercia didn't know what to tell Derrie. She was feeling the effects too. But just as she got the idea to scream for help, there was a flash in the mirror. Just for a brief second that Derrie and Mercia were able to see, their faces in the mirror disappeared and in their place were the faces of [i]horses[/i]. It was obvious as anything could be! The brief moment passed quickly and when it was over, Mercia and Derrie found themselves able to move again. Mercia fell back against a chair and Derrie fell away to the floor, gasping with relief. "Ah!" screamed Mercia. "What was that?" Derrie collapsed on her knees and wiped some of her hair back, looking over at the hosting princess. "I should ask you. What kind of wild magic does this land have?" "It was no such thing," said Mercia, rising to her feet. She straightened out her dress. She walked up to Derrie and offered a hand. "I guess we are both alright, though. Maybe it has something to do with the weather." Derrie took Mercia's hand and lifted herself off the floor. She looked at her dress to make sure it was all in proper order and it looked alright. She looked at the bracelet and removed it, checking the inside to see if there were any points that poisons could enter into human skin. It looked fine though and at no point did she feel anything of a prick. Derrie looked over at the window. Night was falling on the land and even if the sky was going dark, she could see no clouds were in it. Walking up to the window and peering through the porthole, she saw that the weather was tame and no strangeness would cause the two princesses to develop paralysis on the sudden. "The weather seems fine," said Derrie, letting the warm wind blow into the room and taking a big noseful of fresh air. "Well, I don't know what it could be!" Mercia leaned against the table, slapping her hands down on the surface. Her nails hit the board with a strangely loud thump, and Mercia took her hands up to see if there was something the matter with her hands. Nothing too strange, but her nails did look a bit gray and thick. She might have had to sneak out and sand down her nails before Derrie noticed how ugly they were. Mercia said, "I don't want to cause a stir for the castle over some random act of... whatever that may have been. We'd look like [i]fools[/i] fretting over a spell of paralysis!" Derrie frowned at Mercia. "I will say such things never happen at my kingdom!" As Derrie approached Mercia, Mercia noticed something off. It was so subtle that Mercia couldn't tell what it was until Derrie got close enough and noticed that Derrie had big lips. Not luscious lips, just [i]big[/i]. It was revolting. "Did a bee sting you?" asked Mercia. "I don't see how a bee sting could lead to a lack of muscle control," said Derrie. She then looked worried, "Unless it was one of those [i]poisonous[/i] hornets from the Southern Lands." "Not that!" said Mercia, angry. She pointed at her lips to signify at Derrie. "Your lips are looked rather brutish." "What?" Derrie said, insult in her voice. What did Mercia mean? But then Derrie tapped her lips and noticed they were [i]thicker[/i] than usual. She walked over to the mirror and looked inside. Yes, the lips were a little bigger it seemed. Derrie looked at the lights around the chamber. "Fetch your servants to fix the lighting in this room. You inproper candle display is reflecting badly on my visage." "The lighting is fine," said Mercia. "The only thing going on is the brutality of your kingdom is catching up to your [i]face[/i]." And she let out a loud cackle. "Ha- ha- ha- [b]neeeeeeigh![/b]" Mercia and Derrie stopped cold. The nose that Mercia just uttered could only be described as a horse's whinney. Derrie snerked and brought a hand to choke her laughter. Struggling not to break out into a fit of chuckles, she said, "Is that your [i]laugh[/i]?" "No," said Mercia, blazing with embarrassment. "I... well, I'm still very upset about the paralysis that we just had so I... [i]my[/i] voice isn't working correctly." Derrie smiled. "Didn't your instructors teach you how to laugh properly?" And as Derrie smiled, her teeth were in full display. Mercia looked at them, noticing the two front ones were longer than the rest of the row. That couldn't have always been there. Mercia scowled. "In my kingdom we only have the [i]best[/i] instructors! The finest of teachers! I protest, the strange laugh I just uttered was only because of our strange--" She stopped. Something caught her throat. She swallowed to see if it would dislodge but nothing changed. Her throat felt odd, in fact. She clutched her neck with irritant fingers. The stress must have been getting to her because it felt like her neck was longer. Not just longer, but [i]wider[/i]. She wanted to creep into the corner and hide in the shadows, unless her "refined" guest would see her with a bulgeoning neck like some oaf would have! "What's the matter now?" asked Derrie. "Have you contracted illness?" Mercia sneered at Derrie. "Yes and she's in the room with me right now." "There's no need to be ru-OOOOOOO-de," said Derrie. She covered her mouth, stunned at the noise she just made. Mercia giggled at her acquaintance's utterance but there was a worry; there seemed to be something wrong with both of them that took their voices. The anxiety that it was poison would not go away. Something was wrong, they both knew. Derrie took her hand away from her mouth. Her hand felt weird and when she looked at it she saw that her nails, usually near and maintained well, were turning a gross kind of gray. She scratched at them but it wasn't some kind of dust that found its way onto her hands-- those were he nails and her other hand had the same problem. She scratched the nails again to confirm they were the real things. Her arms were looking hairy too. She tried to keep her body hair down as best she could but it had sprouted up. No, it wasn't natural. It was some kind of trick. No princess' hair would grow so thick and in black and white colors. No one's hair would do that! Derrie though to blame Mercia but knew that there was no chance that Mercia had anything to do with it. Mercia had her own problems though. She was pressing her face and touching her nose. It was growing; she knew it! And her nails were turning gray just like Derrie's! "What--" Mercia's voice caught on something. "What's h-happening? Is this some kind of..." Her voice was too strained to finish the sentence. She clutched her throat hoping to feel out some piece of bone or other obstacle stuck inside but her throat was unobstructed. She hoped feeling her neck would clear up what was causing the irritation but there was nothing except a thickening neck. Derrie was having trouble keeping steady. She assumed it was dizziness but her legs felt weird too. She would have lifted her dress to see what was going on but her hands were having spasms. She had trouble clutching a fist. She tried to bend her fingers but they wouldn't curve past that of a fishing hook. "Ugh!" she said. "My hands! They will not bend!" "What..." Mercia coughed, "What do you mean?" "They will not bend!" repeated Derrie. Mercia felt such annoyance at her guest, but when she tried to bend her fingers, there was resistance. A stiffness in her bones and a toughness in her flesh. Her legs were feeling strange as well. They shook and felt thinner. Thinner and weaker. She was having trouble staying upside. "Is this kind of cuh-OOOOOOO-rse!?" asked Derrie, so distraught she couldn't care about the bellow that cut her phrase. "I... I don't kn-kn-NEEEEEIGH!" said Mercia, whinnying like a horse. It was a nice dress, but Mercia couldn't care in the moment. She tore at a sleeve, her frail body not having the strength to tear even the most delicate of fabrics. That and her current predicament left her without much strength. She pulled on the frills of her cuff until a terrible tear was heard and her arms revealed itself. Hair. Or fur was it? It was all over her body. It was such an ugly sight that Mercia swooned with displeasure. She toppled and fell onto a couch. She was having trouble staying upright anyway. There was a pain in her shoes. She pulled up her dress to look at her feet to see if she had stepped in glass but through the fabrics, she couldn't see anything weird about her feet. Those shoes had to come off though. With pain surging through her feet, she pushed off her shoes, classy heels. Through all the horror of what was happening to her body, there was a small bit of light when she removed her shoes and her feet felt relieved to be out of the binds. The pain relaxed but the throbbing continued. Mercia looked below to see what was going on but she couldn't make out what was happening to her legs through the baggy stockings. Had her legs turned to bones? Derrie was preoccupied by watching her hands shift. Against her will, her fingers clasped together, like they were stuck with adhesive. She tried to pry them apart but their were bound together. They were pressed so hard together they looked like they were fusing. But Derrie looked again and realized they were. Skin was crossing into each other and Derrie's gray nails were fusing into each other too. She took her other hand to pry her fingers apart-- a lot good that did as her other head was just as transfigured. Then Derrie said the burning question. "What are we becom-MOOOOOO?" They were transforming. Into what kind of creature, nobody knew. "Please!" shouted Mercia, "Somebody h-EEEEEEIGH!" The neigh rode up her throat and escaped. She let it happened and tried it again. "Somebody heeeeeelp!" But nobody heard her. Nobody could hear either of them. Mercia had trouble sitting on the couch. Her hind was uncomfortable, feeling stiff and flat on the seat. There was a pain at the base of her spine too and when she reached back to see what it was, she gasped as she felt a bump! Derrie had a pain on her butt too. She could feel a growth at the top of her buttocks. She was so sensitive at whatever mutation spawned down there, she dared not touch it. She didn't even want to think about it! But it grew within her dress and she worried what was growing on her body. Mercia quivered but a neigh escaped her again. She did not know what was happening with her, what she was becoming, but she knew that the utterances that escaped her were likely the utterances of the beast she would end up. Derrie whimpered as she threw herself around the room, bumping into tables, like the one with the mirror on it. What did that thing do to them? If she broke it, would the curse be lifted? She saw a paperweight on a shelf and struggled over that way. Meanwhile, Mercia looked down at her body and saw that her waist was expanding. How ugly it was to see her put on weight, but it was undeniable. The cushions on the couch sunk down underneath her. When she moved her waist, she could here the creaking of the couch. She could feel her mass drag and shift. She was getting [i]fat[/i]. The weight was getting to Derrie as well. As she walked across the floor to get to the paperweight, her legs strained. She looked down and saw her body expand outward, and further more, her breasts were melted down her body. Her ample bosom that took the top of her neckline as dropped down the front of her body, inflated nipples pushing through the dress. Her steps were heavy and loud. Her feet were sore and tingly in a way she didn't recognize. Her shoes felt tight. She knew she was transforming, were her feet transforming as well? It got hard for her to keep her balance. Walking was no easy task while her body changed like that. She fell to the ground with a heavy thump, a thump loud enough to cause worry. Her feet felt hard, but like her hand and while she could not see her toes through her shoes, she expected them to be merging like her fingers. It was too distracting to concentrate on her footwear at the moment. She tripped and fell into a chair, pushing it with a loud scrape against the floor. Derrie looked at her shoes and saw them stretching and pushing out. Whatever was inside them wanted out. She tried to grip the seat to maintain her balance but her thumbs had fused into her palms and she no longer had any grip. Mercia's body was stretching. She could feel her underskirt riding up her legs although she couldn't see them through her dress and didn't have the strength to lift up her legs. Her body had gotten so [i]heavy[/i]. She didn't know what to do except lay there and let it happen. She tried to scream again but all that came out was a garbled "H-yyyy-uuuu-ya!" followed by a loud whinny. Her legs had transformed into a crude shape. They pushed upward and just looking at them made her dizzy. Those were her legs but she couldn't handle believing that they were. Her shoes had cracked and underneath were dark hooves. Her legs had disfigured and her underwear peeled away revealing a brown fur coat underneath. Her arms weren't doing much better. Her fingers had fused together and her nails had grown into a dark hard substance. It was hard to see what the shape of the hardness was as she was finding it hard to twist her wrist (or what used to be her wrist) but her hands had taken something of a strange shape. Derrie was still on the floor. She would not be getting the paperweight anytime soon, but she looked at her hands. They were no longer hands, it seemed. Her fingers and thumbs had turned into hooves split down the middle with a little nub of hardness coming off the side. She tried to wiggle her fingers, but they no longer existed. She didn't need a paperweight to break the mirror. She would do it with her bare hands or whatever she had at the end of her arms. As she crawled along the floor, she noticed her elbows had protruded in a strange way. It had pulling herself along the ground difficult but she ignored the pain and drew closer to the table with the mirror. As she made her way over to the mirror, she looked over at Mercia on the couch. If she didn't have a good view of herself, she had a decent view of Mercia. The princess' face was demented, with a large growth out in front of her head. Mercia's ears had gotten pointed and there was even a brush of color on her skin, like there was something twisting it into a different hue. Derrie noticed the same thing was happening to her. Her nose had pushed outward, flattened into her mouth as her mouth expanded outward. Her lips, gums, and cheeks tingled as they mutated into whatever disgusting form they were taking. Her teeth were transformed as well and her tongue had to grow in size and length to keep with were her jaw. The feeling startled her so much but when she tried to scream all that came out was a "MOOOOOOOOO". She knew what that sound was. The moo of a cattle. Was she becoming a cow? How could that be possible? She looked at her cloven hooves and knew that was the truth though. Mercia looked over at her fellow princess and saw that she was transforming like herself. Her skin had the color of black and white and her ears were tilting upward and growing pointy and large. Her hair was receding into her body. Mercia saw that Derrie was becoming a cow but when she turned her head to her body, she wondered if she was transforming into something different? Derrie's milk sac was pushing outward and taking a huge bulge on her dress, but for all the transformation that Mercia was cursed with, her belly had no major bump. It was flat, even if it was long and wide. The waist was expanding enough that a tear was heard. Two hard thighs pulled out of the dress, tearing fabric aside and letting her legs shed a lot of those unneccessary layers. Mercia was becoming a horse. The big nose in front of her was a horse's mouth, long and wide. In the middle of the terror, Mercia found herself curious on the feel of having such a long mouth and clicked her teeth down. She could not see them in the moment, but she felt she had a lot of teeth. Derrie was almost close to the table. As she walked on her legs, her hooves stepped on the dress and tore it off her body. It was such a marvelous dress and one of her favorite outfits but she could not care when her body was transforming like she was cursed by a witch. The frills of her dress split down the back and the fabric burst open. There was a tug below as Derrie's large milk sac wiggled out, four teets hanging to the ground. The skirt fell off and allowed a tail to stand out, it's hairy tip swinging in the air. The tail held at an angle, swinging in the air and stuck there as Derrie's overwrought nerves made her twisting body stand on end. Mercia struggled to get off the couch and when she rolled over, her big horse ass fell to the floor with a large thump. There had to have been somebody that heard that. There was a horse in the castle and soon they would be discovered. Would Mercia's guards help her or execute her? The room was behaving strangely. The lanterns flickered and the walls shimmered with strange light. Was the light a byproduct of her vision going weird? In the midst of the transformation, Mercia was surprised her vision was working at all. She had permission to have her vision blur. Mercia struggled to get on her feet. Her arms had turned into forelegs. They held on the ground, very straight. She tried to tilt them left and right but they would not bend that way. The joints and muscles that allowed her that flexibility had vanished and became something devolved and primal. Derrie got up to the table and tried pushing the table with her head but she regretted rubbing her face up against the leg of the table because with her face morphing, pushing it into a solid surface was painful. She looked at her legs, all [i]four[/i] of them. They were powerful, she believed. She positioned herself so that her back was facing the table. At that point, her body had transitioned into a mostly four-legged form. She didn't crawl around like a mutant human anymore-- she walked like a cattle. She aimed her rear at the table with the mirror on it and lifted a hindleg to jam a hoof into the furniture. The table toppled over and the mirror fell to the floor, shattered completely. Shimmering glass sprinkled over the ground, but nothing changed. Derrie was still a beast and she looked over at Mercia to see her fellow princess' transformation into a horse was nearly complete. Mercia's face lacked any defining human feature. Although the expression of horror was that of a human being's, the features were all animal. Mercia tried to call to Derrie but all that came out was a horse's whinny and when Derrie tried to call back, all there was was a cow's moan. They were no longer humans, but animals. Mercia tried to get to her feet, so scared that she couldn't coordinate any standing. She tried rolling over but couldn't. She hadn't an idea on how to move her body like a heavy equine. As she struggled on the ground, the room got strange. The walls and furniture wavered. Derrie thought it might have been her imagination but when she saw Mercia looking around confused too, she knew that it was real. As real as anything could be in that situation. The form of the room faded into the vista of a forest. Furniture turned to trees. Carpet turned to a pond. The wooden floor turned into grass. The roof over top shifted into a night sky. Derrie whimpered in fright and drew close to Mercia to rub into the horse's body. Anything to make her feel comfort and feeling another living being was the only thing that resembled safety to her right now. The images of nature flashed once more but instead of receding back to the room, the contours of the room vanished completely, leaving Derrie and Mercia outside underneath a night sky. Crickets chirped and a cool night breeze blew on their wet noses. They looked around and no buildings were anywhere to be seen. Not only had they been transformed, they have been teleported too.