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Terramagica

Chapter 07

(The Legacy of Blackmark)

Written by Leo_Todrius

Supported by my Patrons

[Hundreds of Years Ago]

The skies were muddy, colored gray and brown and black. Only silver veins of thinner clouds relayed the sunlight blotted out on the other side. Flashes ripped from one cloud to another, sending out rumbling waves of thunder that shuddered through the ancient mountain. The rain came down in heavy, thick, and unusually warm droplets. It sounded like an angry ocean as all those drops fell across the lightning scorched stone outcropping. It had been hit with so many lightning bursts and wildfires that the lookout had been given another name by the local dwarves; Blackmark. Somehow it seemed fitting to the king that this was the place he would die.

The king slowly reclined his head back, letting the warm rain fall against his parched skin and his stinging eyes. The moisture beaded up on the thick, long, almost waxy brown hair that cascaded down to his shoulders from under his golden coronet. Likewise, the water beaded up on his thick bushy brown beard that flowed from leathered cheeks down to the collar of his golden platemale. The water ran along the contours and grooves of the armor, collecting where the metal had been splintered before falling into the fresh wound beneath. The king winced, feeling the stinging and burning of his injury seeping deeper into his ribs.

Osric could smell the ions in the air, the smell of lightning and storms... but far more than that he could smell the metallic tang of iron, of his blood. It didn't just come from his stomach, it came from his bloody knuckles, his wrist, from cuts and gashes along his neck. The king closed his eyes before he reached up and slowly unclasped the joints of his armor. With some effort he pulled off the damaged plate and cast it aside, exhaling a bit. No doubt it would have been more historic to die in his armor, but for once in his life he was going to indulge himself rather than his legacy. With the weight of the armor off, Osric took several more breaths before wiggling his bare toes - toes that were far larger, far more weathered, and far more flexible than any of those in the kingdom. Osric was, after all, a Sasquatch.

At nine feet tall and almost four hundred pounds of lean muscle, Osric stood above his knights. His leathery feet were perfectly arched, his wide heels as solid and sturdy as anyone's boots, and each plump toe was defined and strong. It was said that the king would blaze the trail so that any in his kingdom could follow in his footsteps... but he had finally gone where no one else could follow. He'd been separated from his men, wounded by the Orc Regent and now he was going to die without an heir. His family line would end, and with it the Kingdom of Zago. As much as Osric wanted to be at peace with himself, it was hard not to have at least a few regrets. Somewhere nearby a twig snapped, offset by a millisecond from a clap of thunder. It had been an attempt to disguise one's footsteps. The attempt had failed.

"You may approach. I will not impede you." Osric said, his words sounding with a slight different cadence given his slightly protruding mouth. The king's deep brown eyes scanned the scrub brush as a young man pulled himself up the rocks, his black hair wet down with rain, his cheeks covered in wild and unkempt sideburns that seemed to be far too advanced for a man of his years. There was a faint tinge of red streaked across his neck, apparently blood smeared from a wound that had since healed. Osric's head tilted as he examined the young man, looking at his pointed ears, then to his golden eyes. He smiled, "A werewolf?"

"A werewolf." The young man replied, "I came to see if... it was true, that the king had come all the way out to Breim on his own two feet." he said. Osric considered, looking out from the mountain.

"By my measure we're still at least a day's walk from Breim. I can't smell the sea from here." the king said. The werewolf bristled.

"But you do not deny that you are the king, King Osec." he replied.

"I do not deny it, though soon you will be able to call me the former king Osec. I do not suspect I am long for this world." the king said, looking back at the young man, "Does that fill you with relief, werewolf? That the leader of those that oppressed you will be dead?" he asked. The werewolf's brow furrowed a bit as he reached up to itch at his pointed ear with his clawed hand. Finally he shook his head.

"If you are dead, you cannot learn from your mistakes." he replied. Osric's bushy protruding eyebrow lifted at that.

"An enlightened attitude." he murmured, "One that many could benefit from." he replied. The werewolf approached further without the king's permission, looking down at the gash in his stomach. He sniffed the air, the tip of his nose darkening a bit as he did. Backlit by the lightning even the werewolf's skinny, lanky body seemed a bit menacing for a moment.

"You'll die within three hours if you don't get healing." the werewolf said finally. Osric let out a sad laugh.

"Even my best Mages don't have a way to treat a wound this deep." Osric replied. The young man hesitated, looking a bit uncomfortable.

"I didn't mean magic, I meant healing, like werewolves." he replied. Osric shook his head slowly, letting out a sigh.

"Regrettably, that is not an ability my people possess." he commented.

"What if your people became our people?" the werewolf asked softly, crouching down next to the king. The king looked him in the eyes, thinking how different they were and yet similar at the same time. In his prime he could have picked up this pup of a werewolf and tossed him across the throne room without breaking a sweat, and now they were atop a scorched mountain, face to face, looking into each other's eyes. No doubt they both smelled musky with their hair and fur rain soaked.

"Lycanthropy is a crime in this kingdom." Osric said slowly, "Even you being here is forbidden." he said. The young werewolf grinned, baring his sharp canine fangs.

"There are a lot of crimes in your kingdom and I'm guilty of several, but I'm also the only one that can save your life." he said softly. The king was quiet for a long moment, listening to the thunder rumbling across the Steppe, looking out across a battlefield too vast for him to see all of it even from such a great height. He'd been fighting for most of his life, his father doing the same for most of his. It all seemed like such an effort... and what did they have to show for it? What would happen if they won? What would they gain?

"And you would do that?" Osric asked. The werewolf shrugged.

"I'm not a soldier, I'm not in the habit of letting people die." he replied.

"If you save me, your life will never be the same." Osric warned. The young man chuckled a bit at that.

"Neither would yours. I mean, have you ever met a bigfoot werewolf?" he asked. Osric gave a wry smile before wincing from the pain, feeling his heartbeat getting threadier by the second. He took a pained breath, held it and then slowly exhaled.

"I would have to find some way to explain it to the others, to bring you into the fold gradually. People could... not accept the fact that their king was a lycanthrope." Osric said slowly. The young man frowned.

"So you'll accept my help, you'll even accept me, but you're saying that no one will be able to accept the truth?" he asked, looking a bit hurt.

"Not at first, but in time...." The king murmured, "You're willing to save my life as any good attendant would, as any good bodyguard would. Why not be both? You will have an esteemed place in my kingdom." he said. The young man hesitated.

"Won't I be arrested on sight? Attacked by your knights?" he asked. Osric considered for a long moment, looking a bit hesitant.

"There is a provision in the Concordance of Zago..." he murmured, "That the king can have any... pet... he wishes, regardless of species." the king said, "It may not be the most apt fit, but it would get you past the provisions long enough for me to change them, to lift the ban on lycanthropes."

"It would give you enough time to learn from your mistakes." the werewolf said softly. It wasn't ideal, it wasn't even what he had considered when following the scent of the wounded king, but they were looking at a future for his kind that was far brighter than any they had ever considered. Once more the thunder rumbled across the Steppe, shaking the scorched stone beneath them. The werewolf took one more breath before he lunged forward, sinking his fangs into the neck of the king.

The sasquatch let out an incredibly deep roar, arching his back, his eyes clenching shut in pain. The warm rain suddenly felt icy as it ran down the exposed parts of the king's skin. There was pain, most certainly, from the fangs piercing his neck, and yet there was also a strange... exhilaration. His blood felt hot - no, it felt like it was boiling! He grunted and groaned. Each beat of his large heart pushed the infected blood through his large body, coursing down his long arms and longer legs. Soon his large toes tingled, the soles of his bare feet throbbing. Even the fur growing across the top of his feet felt electrified. It was as if the king's body had fallen asleep and it was just now waking up into sensory overload.

Osric's face of consternation began to relax somewhat as small pains across his body began to fade. The scratches on his hands knit back together, the pale scar of flesh disappearing as the pigment returned. The bruises faded away from his legs, the ache disappeared from his shoulder. Osric murmured, then gasped as the young werewolf suddenly pulled off from his neck, wiping his mouth on the wet sleeve of his torn black tunic. The king panted, eyes wide, looking at the werewolf and then back down at his torso.

At first the changes were slight; the edges of the wound seemed to soften, maybe even melt. They became milky and gooey, but in the center of the gash the tissue began to look darker as the blood began to clot and build outward. The flesh shifted as the fractured bone beneath reset itself. New layers of muscle and flesh stretched out across the gap before the messy edges seeped across, closing over what had been a fissure moments before. As the last tendrils of the gooey mess met, it began to dry out and firm. At first it seemed spongy, but finally it toughened up into the almost leather like hide that the sasquatch bore on his abdomen, feet and palms.

"That's amazing, I've-" Osric paused before he inhaled sharply, then started to pant. He slammed his hands down on either side of himself, arching his back, groaning. While the king was fit and healthy, it seemed that the lyncantorphy coursing through his veins wasn't quite done with him yet. He groaned, growled and then roared as flesh began pushing out from his chest, forcing his pectorals to firm and swell, growing wider and taller and thicker. His already hard stomach firmed further, bulges of muscle pushing outward as they defined. He grunted sharply, his toes wiggling uncontrollably as his toenails darkened, turning from ivory to brown and then black before they started to grow longer and thicker, coming out a bit from the tip of his toes.

Every expression of pain and pleasure, every grimace and every exalted smile was flexing the fleshy face the king had framed with his mighty beard - but it had been a face that had never been able to grow a mustache. As he panted and groaned, his slightly protruding upper lip blossomed with waxy brown hairs that pushed out longer and longer, stretching down on either side of his lips. Every centimeter felt like a gift from the goddesses and as the hanging strands slipped down over the already bushy mass of his beard, the king moaned happily.

When Osric finally opened his eyes once more, they were flecked and tinged with gold. It seemed that the werewolf's bite had not taken complete control over his natural genetics, but there were many aspects that would be completely different now. The king reached up, his fingers racing over where the werewolf had bitten. Much like his mortal wound, those gashes had likewise closed as his new immune system asserted itself. The king looked at the werewolf in awe, wondering if he had any idea just how much he had changed the future. The Kingdom of Zago had often been called the Kingdom of the Sun, but Osric had a feeling that it was now the Kingdom of the Moon as well. He would add another circle to the flag, he would bring justice and acceptance to the werewolf's kind, and he would put an end to a war that had gone on far too long. It was only a matter of time until Zago would be a kingdom where species of all walks could live in harmony with one another.

****

[Last Tuesday]

There were few times in life that brown was a color that was revered, celebrated or cherished. It was the color of paint that no one wanted, the tone of bricks that were meant to go unseen. Even in nature it was the green of life that was celebrated rather than the brown wood that supported it. The exception of the rule, one that Draeth was intent on enjoying, was food. There were many shades of brown that were the hallmarks of dishes that had been brought to their most ideal heights.

The tin on the counter had been delivered at sunrise. He'd been instructed to let it cool for at least an hour after baking, although to speed things along the bearded night clerk had removed the cover. Now his eyes gazed at the contents, his stomach rumbling like distant thunder on the horizon. The tin was full of a thickening sea of brown, gold, beige and tan. Shattered shards of almonds and wingnuts sat submerged in a sea of honey, syrup and spices. Even the smell was heavenly.

Against what little judgement he had, Draeth dipped his spoon into the confection a bit early, letting the golden brown liquid seep and stretch over the curved metal before he lifted it up and brought it towards his waiting mouth. While the spoon rose, the liquid resisted its own capture, stretching out into long tendrils and strings that glittered in the increasing light. Draeth's eyes widened in surprise, especially as the strands snapped and swung, landing in sticky webs across his face. Normally it would have been no big deal, but Draeth had been trying to grow out his stubble into a beard over the last few days and it was getting just long enough that anything sticky would be a nuisance. Still, Draeth was persistent and got his mouth around the spoon.

While not all of the confection had reached Draeth's mouth, what did not only melted across his tongue, it almost effervesced. Spices reacted to the salt of his saliva and fizzled, bringing an exciting twist to the already sweet and savory dish. Draeth's eyes fluttered shut as he murmured. There was no chewing, no swallowing, merely enjoying. The honey and syrup dissipated steadily until his mouth was full of the sweetest flavor he'd ever tasted and the nuts nearly dissolved as he ever so slightly moved his mouth. Reluctantly he took a few bites to break up the contents, swallowed, and then let out a wistful sigh - a sigh that was interrupted by the bell of the shop jangling so hard it nearly fell off its hook.

"He's gone!" Ori shouted as he burst into the shop. Draeth's eyes went wide.

"Who is gone, what's happening?!" he asked, standing up, his belly bumping the counter and making him wince a bit.

"Mahno! I went to check on him before work. We were all so tired after the Satyricon. I tried to let him sleep, but when I went to his apartment the... " Ori hesitated, taking a breath, "The door was unlocked and ajar. He wasn't there, there was just this, lying on the floor..." Ori murmured, lifting a card up into view. Even from a distance the cardstock was clearly high quality with shades of different types of paper and parchment worked together. The script was calligraphed and obviously written by hand, but glowing at the bottom of the letter was a golden footprint surrounded by a double golden ring with triangular spikes like sun rays. Draeth hadn't believed it possible for his eyes to get any wider, but when he beheld the seal of Zago's king, they managed to open a few more centimeters.

"How did your boyfriend get a letter from the king?" Draeth asked. Ori looked tired and weary as he looked back at the letter.

"By decree of his royal highness Tanirun Osec, and by the werewolf covenant of Blackmark, you have been summoned to serve as bodyguard and attendant to the king..." Ori repeated before looking up, "I didn't think Zago had a draft. What does this mean? Why didn't Mahno tell me where he was going?"

"Did you say Blackmark?" Draeth asked, turning around. He slipped one booted foot into a cubby hole and rose up another good three feet before grabbing a book from the top of the shelf. It was not one of Sagen's ancient tomes full of magic and mystery, it was far more contemporary. The navy blue cover faded into the skyline of their ocean town at night before the detail ebbed away into a gold outline instead of a full detailed photograph. The title was embossed, sticking out from the cover; Breim, the city of Deep Bones by Marcus Mazra. Many of the pages were dogeared to indicate important passages.

"That's what the card says..." Ori murmured, watching Draeth flip through the book, his large thumb carefully pinning down the pages when they were deemed not to hold the information he required. Ori seldom saw Draeth so focused, but it seemed in some ways he had inherited his father's bardic sense of stories. Draeth grinned slowly as he came down to it.

"Blackmark was an outpost during the War of the Nine. It was the closest the war ever got to Breim, enough that they brought the wounded here to recover... King Osric Osec visited the wounded after the Battle of Blackmark. They said his custom armor had been pierced in a way that would kill any mortal man, but while his armor was stained with blood, the king was unblemished." Draeth murmured, reading through the passage.

"But what does any of that have to do with Mahno? How does it give them the right to make him a bodyguard for the king?" Ori asked. Draeth turned, looking over to one of the few pieces of modern society that inhabited the shop.

"Oracle, tell me about Osric Osec." Draeth called out A small crystal ball shimmered as LED lights at its base lit up.

"Did you mean Osric Osec, the Ninth king of Zago, or Osric Isaac, the Firbold actor starring in films such as Mine Wars: Will of the Wisps and IllVille?" an automated fairy voice asked. Ori started to frown.

"Osric Osec." Draeth replied.

"Osric Isaac is a Firbold actor that was born-" the crystal ball began rattling off.

"Oracle, that's enough." Draeth sighed in frustration, fishing out his phone, "I'll just look it up on Mythipedia." he said finally. Ori closed his eyes and turned, starting to pace back and forth along the crystal clear displays of curios and antiques that filled the windows of Terramagica. Ori worked for a powerful wizard in a shop full of magic. Even the shop itself was protected by magic, and yet strange and terrible things kept happening to them... but this time it wasn't some demon or gang or curse. This time it came from Zago's own government, from their leader. He'd reached his big furry hand down and snatched Ori's boyfriend away from him.

Draeth scrolled through on his phone, skimming the article, looking for anything important about Blackmark. Unlike the passing reference in his father's book, Osric's page on Mythipedia was much longer and more detailed. Draeth's head tilted as he paused, went back and read a passage in more detail. A slow smile crept across his broad face as he looked back up at Ori, though the smile tempered a bit as the victory of finding the answer was weighed against the weight of what the discovery actually meant. Draeth lowered his head and read it one more time to be sure.

"Blackmark was a turning point in the War of the Nine. The king restructured his personal guard, the knights of the Tri-Point and eventually reached out to the other races to put an end to hostilities. Of those three, the most controversial was that he appointed several... werewolves as his personal bodyguards. At the time all lycanthropes had been banished to the badlands or imprisoned." Draeth said.

"So Blackmark was when the king started using werewolves as bodyguards and attendants, and what, it's continued all this time?" Ori asked, "So what? Does that give him the right to just... conscript Mahno? Mahno hates the government!" Ori said, the tips of his pointed elven ears red with rage. Draeth set down his phone and moved over to rub Ori's shoulders.

"Knowing why something happened helps us figure out how to undo it. Mahno just has to be strong enough to hold on. We'll come for him, we'll get him out of this." Draeth promised. Ori nodded. That was the goal, anyway.

****

Flames flickered in copper bowls sat atop pedestals equally spaced across the long hall, pearlescent banners hanging down from the ceiling just behind them. Each one was emblazoned with the symbol of the king; a large golden foot surrounded by one golden ring to indicate the moon and a slightly larger ring studded with triangles to indicate the sun. The hall was spacious, though seldom used. Breim was far from the capital city and often left to its own devices as a cultural mecca, but that diversity is what had brought King Tanirun Osec so far from home.

The huge, bare feet echoed as they walked across the black marble floor. The stone was cool and comforting to the king's toes. His brown fur rustled as he walked, a long bushy brown beard reaching nearly all the way to his navel. The pearl white tunic did little to hide the fact that the king was quite strong, his broad shoulders counterbalanced by the almost obscene bulge in his tunic pants. His long arms swung as he strode forward, copper earrings glinting from his oversized sasquatch ears. When he reached the throne at the far end of the room, he turned around and sat down, spreading his furry legs wide. His toes drummed on the floor before him impatiently, each one tipped with a long claw that had been painted to look like metal.

An over-sized hand lifted up, each finger tipped by a similar metallic claw and ringed with bands of nearly every kind of metal. The fingers sunk into the thick and bushy beard, combing down through the length before brushing one of his pert, fat nipples through the robe. The king's swollen, fat hybrid cock stirred beneath his pants, blood rushing into the already engorged member. He had come all this way for a very specific purpose, but as usual it seemed that diplomacy was taking its sweet time. The benefit of all that waiting, however, was that he would get to observe a very old, very special custom.

"Bring forth the attendant!" Tanirun called out. The double doors at the end of the hall shuddered as they opened, light spilling in from outside. Three shadows fell across the floor; the ones on either side were the elegant and fit forms of a pair of elves, one with hair the color of straw and the other with hair the color of oak. They stood slightly behind the third figure, a young man stripped down to wear nothing but a black leather loin cloth and a black leather collar.

A crest of unruly black hair ran down the center of Mahno's head, the hair on either side growing out into a rusty strawberry blond color. The hair only got thicker as it descended down his cheeks as unruly mutton chops. 3 gold earrings hung from each ear, contrasting the black spacer. He was taller than most, though still a bit thin. His forearms were hairy, as was his chest. A tail hung down between his legs, limp at the moment. His posture was not a natural one. It seemed almost a miracle that he was somehow standing, especially with his eyes an eerie and complete black.

"A fine bodyguard indeed..." The king murmured, reaching his clawed fingers down to slowly unfasten his pants. With very little prodding, an incredibly long, plump manhood emerged, swinging free and slapping across the king's stomach. It was faintly tapered, though it seemed that his bigfoot genes had claimed more of his shape than his werewolf ones. He ran a tongue across his sharpened canine teeth, smiling more and more. He stretched out his other hand, beckoning.

The elves behind Mahno whispered in an unintelligible tone, but the magic had no need for anyone else to hear it. Mahno began to move forward again, almost as if some unseen hand was tugging on the leather collar around his neck. He approached the king, walking between all of the burning bowls. It took a few moments to reach the far end of the hall but at last Mahno slowed to a stop. The king sat forward in his throne, reaching out to take a hold of one of Mahno's sideburns, bringing him that much closer.

"You have no idea how lucky you are, werewolf." Tanirun murmured, "Your entire life is about to change. You will become the king's attendant, bodyguard, and pet..." he whispered, smiling a little more, "I can't wait to see you grow." he said, letting go of Mahno's face before his hand reached down, pulling his cock from his stomach. The king started to stroke it up and down, slowly at first but with a lot of focus. Each movement of his hand wafted up the scent of sex to Mahno's nose, the smell of a werewolf in some sort of permanent heat. Even in his altered state, Mahno's nipples firmed and his cock began to harden.

As the king pleasured himself with anticipation, the elf mages' incantations were growing more and more powerful. The banners began to flutter in a breeze that was not present. The flames in the copper bowls grew taller, fuller and brighter. The ground began to shake as if from some unheard thunder. The moans escaping from Tanirun's lips were lewd and unsophisticated, operating on as much instinct as anything else.

The words spilling from the mouths of the elves grew louder, fuller and more insistent. What had begun as burning oil in each copper bowl had grown into jets of fire. The fire flickered and shifted, almost as if dancing before, at last, it spilled out of the bowls and splattered on the floor. The flames crept toward one another before regrouping into two ovals. The flame began to stretch taller again, rising into pillars that branched together, then grew higher still. More fire fell from the sides of the plume, reaching nearly all the way to the floor before stopping. One last burst produced a sphere of fire atop the gangly pile of flame.

"Turn for your king, look at your future..." Tanriun whispered. Mahno turned, his eyes still dark. The light of the flames flickered on his uncovered skin. The being made of fire before him resolved slowly, taking on more details as parts of the fire grew brighter and others darker. The flames looked like curly hair atop his head, as well as a bushy beard. His fingertips were pointed, his feet abnormally large, and behind him was a tail made of flame. Tanirum reached out a hand next to Mahno's pointed ear and snapped.

In that moment the black receded from Mahno's eyes, returning to just his pupils. He looked forward in confusion, eyes widening at the sight of the fire spirit an instant before it exploded. Tendrils of fire shot out, dissolving into energy an instant before it sunk into Mahno's chest. It sank into the werewolf, swirling and squirming through his body. Mahno doubled over, groaning and then growling, snarling as he bore his fangs. He panted and thrashed, growing unsteady until he fell backwards onto his ass. His tail ached from falling onto the marble, but as he lifted his head back up, he inhaled sharply as his eyes flashed with burning light.

Each breath drew air into his mouth, ringed by flesh that was growing new stubble. Unlike the rest of his rusty red hair, though, his new mustache and goatee were dark black. It was soft and downy at first like a teenagher's first growth, but as it filled out, more and more and more hairs emerged until they were impossibly dense. Each one grew thicker as well, taking on a waxy protective coating that made it seem that much stronger. The hair darkened, descending down over Mahno's lip, curling at the ends. The hair sprouting from his chin was stretching out in wavy, bushy lines. It started just at the tip of his chin but new hairs crept up all the way to his lower lip and advanced down the bottom of his jw, fanning out to connect to his sideburns. The hair was so thick and so long, growing down inch by inch.

In moments Mahno had gone from looking like a street punk to looking like an island castaway. Even his mohawk was growing longer, the hair slumping over to one side as it descended down over his pointedm, pierced ears. Mahno panted, groaning hard, his canine fangs growing even longer and thicker. He shuddered, feeling his whole face tingle and throb as his scruff became a beard and his beard grew longer. It felt amazing, exciting, and incredibly wrong. This wasn't him, and it certainly wasn't in an environment where he felt safe. He wanted Ori there, he wanted his boyfriend... and strangely he wanted Draeth too... He wanted to show them both how manly he was getting, how big, how sexy he was. Every part of him felt brand new, every part of him seemed worthy of attention, even his... feet.

As Mahno looked down at his feet, he realized he'd never taken the time to truly appreciate them. They were the part of his body that took him everywhere he needed to go. They were a natural extension of his body, just like his hands or head. His toes seemed so... perfect... Each one was strong and lean, tipped by claws. His soles were the perfect mix of strong skin without being too tough or hardened; resilient and yet not rough. He'd never paid much mind to them, but now he couldn't think of anything else - and just like his cock grew when he got too focused on sex, it seemed that his feet were now growing.

It came first in the arch of his foot; a cramp, a contraction, and then growth. First his right, then his left, then both. He watched his feet grow taller and longer, then steadily wider. His bones crackled and popped slightly, the sound traveling more through his bones than out of the skin. With Mahno so focused on his feet, he didn't feel the bristling of new hair branching across his neck, then his shoulders, then his back. It traveled down his spine as if beads of sweat were fertilizing the new growth. Black fuzz pushed out, darkening and thickening, spreading until his skin couldn't be seen beneath.

The king moaned out louder, using both of his hands to jack off, watching the young werewolf take on the power of his ancestors. He watched Mahno's mohawk reach his right shoulder, a shoulder now covered in fur. Even his wolf tail was being pushed aside as the werewolf's ass cheeks swelled fuller and bigger, rounding outward. They were full of muscles unlike any that Mahno had ever possessed. They weren't the quick fire muscles of a werewolf, they were the long, strong, enduring muscles of a sasquatch.

Mahno grunted as his neck thickened, the leather collar reluctantly growing to accommodate. More bones popped and snapped as his shoulders pushed outward, his ribs increasing in distance from one another. His arms ached and burned as they grew longer, making more room for the powerful new muscles to anchor onto. His biceps bulged, his triceps expanded. His legs stretched out, pushing his oversized feet away from him. Mahno felt dizzy with power, with lust, with confusion and with need... need for Oriron.

One enlarged hand smacked down onto the marble, then another. The werewolf pushed himself up enough to draw his larger feet beneath himself. He got his footing and then pushed up more, rising higher and taller. He was unsteady but he got to his feet, rising up. The beard continued to unspool from his face, descending downward until it brushed his collar bone. It was lush and black, glistening like the night's sky in contrast to the rusty red sideburns. Drool dripped from his fangs, his mouth half obscured by his new mustache.

Mahno stood there a moment, collecting himself even as his bones creaked and groaned. The floor was so much further away, at least two feet, if not more. He felt heavy, almost lumbering... but he had to get to his boyfriend. Mahno moved to take a step, but as he did, two hands latched onto his ribs. Mahno looked down to see the blunt, broad, clawed, ring covered fingers as Tanirun grabbed onto him. The king had risen to his abundantly large feet without a sound, and in an equal show of stealth, he thrust forward. Mahno's loincloth had not covered his hind quarters and the king's huge cock speared in quick and deep.

The werewolf threw his head back to gasp, but the king leaned forward and bit down into Mahno's neck, sinking his fangs into his new prize. Mahno's body crackled with energy as the ritual was completed. Tanirun began to thrust forward and back, wedging his immense sasquatch cock deeper and deeper into Mahno's ass. He ground and shifted, working until he felt the depth of the werewolf around him.

Mahno shuddered, growling and growing, panting and plumping. His feet had easily doubled their original size, his legs reaching lengths he had never considered limbs could reach. Even his cock seemed eager to join in, rising out from behind the loincloth. Each beat of his heart pushed more and more blood into the length, causing his member to swell and grow. Inch by inch, Mahno's cock grew longer and wider, but it seemed like the outer edges were growing faster, blunting his pepper shaped canine cock. The tip blunted and flattened before growing out further, seeming far more like the club-like cock the king was wielding.

Tanirun grunted as he slammed in and out, back and forth, deeper and harder, grinding and salivating. He released his bite from Mahno's shoulder, licking at the wound as it knit itself back up. He sniffed at Mahno's black mohawk, at the fur on his neck, kissing his broad shoulder. He felt his royal scepter spear deep into Mahno's belly even as his balls hung lower and fuller. He felt the werewolf's taller, broader body wobbling with the impact. He grunted and grinned, moaning at how wonderful it all was - but as much satisfaction as he had, the king still wanted more

With his weight balanced on one foot, the king slipped his right leg around Mahno's, moving to start petting the werewolf's newly enormous foot with his own. He ran his toes through the fur on the top of it before slinking down to rub leathery toes together. He stroked it, feeling it with the pad of his own foot, feeling just how big Mahno's foundation had gotten. With his other hand, he reached around to coil his ringed fingers around the werewolf's fat cock, stroking it forward and back, coaxing it along.

Mahno leaned back, groaning out, his mouth feeling too full as it pushed forward just a bit into a proto muzzle. His nose broadened and a heavy thumping filled his skull. Little by little, his brow bone oozed outward, stretching and swelling, casting a shadow over his eyes. Mahno was swimming in his own head, feeling the scales shifting. It was getting harder to think about his own life and easier to think of how good he felt. His feet were buzzing with life, his thick bushy beard felt like an extension of himself and the king felt so good against him, let alone inside him... He wanted to protect that feeling, he wanted to protect the king.

"Sire!" Mahno exclaimed, moaning out as milky jets of cum began to launch from his swollen sasquatch cock. That was the one word Tanirun had been waiting to hear. He let out a deep bellow, cumming hard, starting to pump his royal seed deep into Mahno's belly. Mahno shuddered, collapsing back against the king's chest, his head sinking into Tanirun's bushy brown beard as if it was some sort of bird's nest. The rich, peaty, earthy smell drowned the werewolf, further enchanting him to the king's command. The two were huge, wild beasts, a bridge between two species - but those similarities weren't enough to overcome the power discrepancy between master and servant, an imbalance that had existed for hundreds of years.

****

"You've heard the phrase that power corrupts, haven't you?" Sagen asked, putting down his phone. Even though he'd become much younger thanks to the touchstone, his face still showed a tiredness and weariness well beyond his physical years. "It seems that absolute power has corrupted absolutely." he said finally.

"What do you mean?" Draeth asked, looking over at Ori who had wrapped his arms around his stomach almost as if to subconsciously protect himself.

"It seems that our good king Tanirun has been going to great lengths to obscure the history of his personal guard. Of the last fourteen he's had, only two came from the Royal Academy and had any sort of public life before they volunteered. The rest are so secretive that it's almost impossible to confirm their names. The only thing that is clear is that they were all werewolves - each and every one." Sagen said. Ori's face seemed almost as stony and cold as when he had been petrified.

"And they found another low profile werewolf, one that they thought wouldn't be missed, to join his collection." Ori said softly. Sagen's face tightened a bit more. Despite Ori being nearly lost in his own thoughts, he was present enough to recognize the reaction. His brows lowered further, "It's worse than that?"

"It's... only a theory." Sagen murmured.

"Tell me, I have to know what we're up against even if it's a theory." Ori said. Sagen considered a moment before relenting.

"It may not be so much to add to his collection, but to replace those that are missing. Of all of the protectors King Osec has had, only the two volunteers from the Academy have stood the test of time. The rest seem to cycle out every couple months, a year or two if they are lucky. However he recruits them, it doesn't seem to last long..." Sagen said. Draeth half expected Ori to shrink back, but the Elf stood there, his face set for a long moment before he gave a nod.

"So we can't let him stay there, not a second longer than we have to. We're going to get Mahno back and we're going to expose the king's treachery." Ori said. Draeth gave a sheepish smile.

"I'm all down for sticking it to the establishment, but if this is something that's been going on since Blackmark, how are two shopkeepers and a mage going to get through that armor?" Draeth asked.

"Like many politicians, their weakness rarely comes from without. To find what will disarm and expose the king, we must simply help him to destroy himself." Sagen said with growing wrath, his eyes glittering with dark justice.