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A Sympathetic Mind: Part 2: And Then...

By Slair 'Starbuck' Mongrel

12-28-05

Slair woke up in his own apartment, in his own bed. His head hurt a little and it took a handful of moments to clear his blurred vision. Sitting up he found he was naked save for the thong of leather around his neck that held his lighter. Absently he heard the ticking of his desk-clock and saw that the radium-painted hands read at 6:05. Since the apartment had no windows, he didn't know if it was day or night. The hyena scratched and stretched, trying desperately to recall the events of what he presumed was the night before.

Slair sought out the front door and cracked it open barely wide enough see into the hallway. But shadow, even from the window around the corner of the S-shaped hallway could be seen. It is night, then. The hyena closed the door again with a soft click and retreated deeper into the darkness of the studio apartment. Sleep now seemed a too-distant thing, but thoughts came to the fore of his brain, memories that demanded attention, that were forbidden and shameful and wonderful ones, too.

The hyena sat on the edge of his bed, cradling his face with both hands, willing the migraine headache to go away and leave his brains alone. He whimpered, baring his teeth and pushing the heels of his hands into his eyes, leaving a galaxy behind his eyelids. Why couldn't he remember and why did his head hurt?

With a chuff of anger the hyena rose from his bed and strode naked to the closet, and throwing it open, found brand-new clothes, all his old and thread-worn hand-me-downs gone. Slacks, v-necked tunics, vests, sleeveless shirts, a long raincoat, and even a new pair of boots with decorative steel plates running up the shins were there, all in dark shades, Slair's best colors. He stood with a hand extended, feeling the lapel of the raincoat, wondering how in the Pits he had found the gall to steal enough to buy all this. His friends would be amazed.

He blinked. His friends. What would they think when they found out? Grabbing a sleeveless tunic, pants, the boots and the raincoat, he hurried to dress, pausing once more at his desk to examine another curious clue. A paper-wrapped package about three by four inches sat on the table by the door. Weighing the consequences with only half a thought he pulled the string tying it closed, and something leapt at his face and coiled around his throat. Words began pouring into his mind as if they were spoken next to his ear.

Mongrel, they said. I have further need for you. You will come to me again this very day. I can feel the memory within you of our last night's playtime. I know you liked it.

You will return to me again, and you will follow my word without question. I am in need of a messenger, Slair. And you will suffice nicely.

I am assured by your further, dwelling thoughts of me that you wish another go... I will grant it if I am pleased by your performance of your duties. I know you wish to keep your fantasies secret, but you will know this; there are to be no secrets kept from Dominaratal Shadescale.

...Do well, and I will reward you, amply....

And with that the contralto voice of the dragoness went silent, as if it never was. Slair felt at the thing on his neck, going to his front door. In the mirror by the apartment's entrance, he saw it was a collar of black leather, with a charm carved from green stone in the shape of a cadre of snakes knotting around one another. Dominaratal's sigil. A final pulse of thought from the seemingly-omnipotent dragoness, and Slair was out the door, into the hall, and thence to the outside world.

The Messy Toe was indeed messy, but the only toes bared were those of the reptilian patrons whose feet could not fit into shoes made by any leathersmith in Brackenwaif. Ghruutuk, the pub's owner and resident barkeep sat a trio of glasses down at the table that Slair had found his friends, Semnae and Yanne, nursing Snake-Bite and Blacks. The hyena took a long swallow of his apple-ale, and released a tense breath before looking up at the pair.

Yanne, a fennec fox, the tallest of the three bent closer to Slair, murmuring, "Are you okay? You look a lot more nervous than normal, and you haven't even had your usual run through the market-place yet."

Semnae, a demoness (though you couldn't tell), nodded her agreement. "Yes, and what's with the new clothes? You never wear anything this fancy." Slair was hesitant to answer, but it was inevitable. They'd find out eventually, and the embarrassment would only be the worse for the wait. Running a hand over his hair, the hyena took another steadying drink from his glass and took a deep breath. There's no room in a thief's repertoire of faults or skills for hesitation.

"Believe it or not--I know *I* don't believe it--but this is all that was in my closet when I woke up this morning. This and--...." He had started to explain about the collar, but he stopped, shaking his head. Would they believe it? Both had been through things as odd or more interesting than he, but this would top anything they would have expected him capable of, he knew.

"You just won't accept what I'd say as true..." He muttered, bending over his ale again. Yanne shrugged and sipped his SB&B while Semnae gave a small grin.

"You got laid," she said, and Slair looked up, aghast.

"How'd--...I'm not saying anything," he muttered and scratched his neck under the collar.

"I knew it," Sem said, beaming. The hyena groaned and cradled his face with his hands. Even though he'd had the biggest crush on her, he more considered her an older-sister, and this was just another ribbing he'd handle with a grain of salt. It didn't mean that it wasn't embarrassing being found out. Especially about a secret fantasy coming true....

"What time is it?" Slair asked from behind his hands. Yanne looked at his wristwatch.

"About half-past four," he said.

"Bollocks."

The hyena rubbed his eyes and stood up, putting his coat over a forearm. Feeling the kukri at the base of his back, he made sure that its hilt was still hidden, and pushed his chair in.

"What, no details? Come on," Semnae cajoled him. Slair cringed, fearing trying to explain how one of his very deep, dark fantasies had come to life.

"....I've got an appointment to keep..." he said, distractedly. He avoided the gazes of the two he loved like siblings, even more than his real brothers and sister. He didn't care about the judgment of anyone else, but he feared seeing anything like disappointment or disgust from the fox and the demoness as much as he feared the nothingness beyond death. But it can't be helped.

"I should be back around midnight or so." He took a few coins and laid them on the table. "Drinks are on me, guys. See you..."

"So long, Slair," Yanne said with a slight wave. Semnae made a creaky sound, like rusty bedsprings and gave a diabolic smile. The hyena sighed and turned, giving a nod to the one-handed bar-owner. The aged turkey lifted his hook and gave a nod, and Slair left, pushing past the batwing-doors. His meeting with Mme. Shadescale waited.

The brown-cloaked being showed him to the meeting-chamber, and this time he was a little less nervous and fearful than before, but that feeling of power in the stones of the castle was more apparent than before, more oppressing, but the chair he seated himself in was massive, but only a fraction of the size of the granite throne set flush against the Northern wall.

The gentle smell of vanilla and jasmine wafted in from the Eastern doorway, as well as that of cherrywood incense. Dominaratal was magnificently dressed in a gorgeous strapless gown slit up one side to her hip. The dress itself looked as if it was made from a material with stars woven into the black threads. Slair shivered inwardly but strove to keep his composure, and to a degree succeeded. The dragoness favored with a gentle but imperial smile and a gleam in her golden eyes.

"So good of you to come again so soon, Slair," she purred as she strode across the room, a jingling accompanying her stride. The hyena looked to her feet and noticed that she wore a bell-strung anklet, the soft and soothing sound adding charm to the dragoness' bearing. Again Slair gave a mental shake, lowering his eyes. He heard her murr a laugh and walk behind his chair.

"...With a command so insistent, how can one refuse, Lady Shadescale?" He asked rhetorically. Again she chuckled. It was fortunate she was in good humor. He would hate to be on her shit-list, as those on it are swiftly overcome with an unexpected case of death.

She approached him, joining him on the overlarge chair, placing her hand strategically between his knees, taking his ear in her beak and biting down, drawing a stuttering moan from the hyena.

I know all your buttons, Mongrel, she sent. And exactly how to push them.

Slair took a breath, and felt his hackles trying to rise through his long hair, goose-flesh rolling like a wave over him at her teasing attention. But he loved it, and in doing so, Dominaratal read him as easily as a book. But she released his ear from her bite and rose from the seat, assuming the air of a businesswoman.

"As you know, I need someone to act as my messenger," she extolled, her gait slow and rolling of hip. "Since I am of a position that demands that I remain a neutral if powerful presence, I require you to be for me sometimes a silent enforcer. You are to go whither I send you and give words or kill as I command.

"In return, I will give to you favors...." The dragoness turned, her whole body seeming to churn and run like water, shortening in stature, her scales changing to a coat of nearly-sable fur. Her tail remained, but became a brush with a white stripe along its top. She turned, and Slair saw she was a skunkess, another image out of his fantasies.

"I know all of your sick-minded fantasies, Mongrel," she said, her voice unchanged. Again she changed, this time into a doe, her golden eyes beautifully large. Again, into a mouse, a cat, a squirrel, she-wolf, rabbitess, raccooness, she-bear, lioness, tigress, all the females of his secret sexual lusts. "And I like them. I can become anything you desire, Slair. If you do as I command of you." Finally she returned to her dragon-self, her scales giving a shiver like a wave-front from head to foot. She sent to him the feeling that she would not in the least mind doing things for him of country matters, if of course he did do as she demanded. Slair blushed, trying hardest of all not to think of such things at this time.

"...What you propose is a very tempting offer..." He muttered, concentrating very hard on his folded hands. "Suffice it to say I would be satisfied to merely be your messenger."

"And?" Dominaratal urged, raising a hand palm-up for him to continue.

"...And the promise of being your plaything by just doing your bidding has decided it. I don't deny that I have wanted you for as long as I've lived in Brackenwaif...but if you would favor me with fantasy, then I am yours for the commanding...." he finished, lowering his head and ears in shame. That he could be bought so easily, albeit for the one thing he would have given his soul, was bad enough, but the dragoness' favor would more than reconcile his shame, if he could please her.

Dominaratal churred in pleasure and favored Slair with a soft smile, one the hyena could not at all help but return. She approached him again, pinching his chin between thumb and forefinger.

"Let us drink on it then," she said, just as a brown-cloaked servant glided in bearing a tray of two goblets. The being served Dominaratal first, then Slair. The dragoness' smile seemed deep, full of mischief as she sipped her burgundy. Slair drank deeply, slowly draining his own cup. The servant extended the tray again and he gave the goblet back. The dragoness chuckled, walking around his chair, trailing a hand playfully along his shoulder.

"Even your fantasy to want to be a woman...not unusual, but still intriguing," she murred. Slair's eyes widened and he drew back into his seat in fear.

"What--"

"Potions are an interesting catalyst, Mongrel. And those that transmute the body are even more so." She explained, circling his seat, even as he felt a heaviness in his head, not from the burgundy, but from what he feared was in it. His eyelids grew unbearably heavy, as did his limbs, the words spoken to him becoming a bass rumble barely perceptible to his ears.

"I have always wondered how it would affect a male, changing into a woman...and being fucked..." Dominaratal said from far-away, and Slair lost all connection to his conscious self, the dragoness' last distance-distorted word seeming to best describe his situation.

He came to, slowly, his eyesight returning in concentric circles. The darkness around him seemed perfect if not for the twin points of golden light nearby, and the person that belongs to them. The smell of her was nearly overpowered by the scent of musty stone, long forgotten books, and wine-turned-vinegar. She smiled at Slair through the shadows, a shark's grin that gave the hyena a fresh and unpleasant chill. After a moment's time of feeling her gaze bore into his inner-self, one of the torches held aloft in midair by itself flared to violently-bright life, offering a blessed distraction.

He was held aloft by shackles on a chain's end, leading up into an infinite darkness overhead, his feet barely touching ground. He looked down at himself, and pondered at what he saw. Somewhere between the period of his losing consciousness, Slair's nipples had each been pierced, and the rings in them glinted slightly in the torchlight. Someone had unrobed him utterly and had dressed him in a crimson-lace bodice. Despite the sexy lingerie, it seemed entirely out of place on his masculine, wiry frame. Especially considering that his maleness hung apparent between his legs for any to see.

His voice was a dry, pained rasp.

"Where am I? What in the Pits is going on?"

Dominaratal's voice was quietly mirthful.

"The potion should be kicking in anytime now," she murred, tapping a talon against her cheek. The hyena shivered inwardly at her unspoken meaning.

"You're going to kill me anyway?" The question made the dragoness sigh.

"Don't be so damned single-minded," she said, stern. "Or are you that eager to die?"

Her question was premature as Slair felt something deep-seated in his body unravel, so deep in himself that every particle of his flesh seemed to flow like quicksilver given only a vaguely male shape. A low and nearly silent sound came from the metamorphosing mass of hyena-shaped flesh as its testicles drew up into its scrotum and into the belly, the penis shrinking and drawing inwards as well, a thin slit opening along its bottom. The being known as Slair grew a vagina, and his/her voice heightened in octaves until it was a higher pitch, more feminine. Swells on his/her chest grew, until they became full, pliant breasts. Slair's hips drew out and waist slimming, Slair became female. Another one of his secret fantasies had come true.

"Slairette, you look positively adorable," Dominaratal said, considering the final product of her work. The effect of her potion on the hyena's body was profound by magical standards, and Dominaratal was impressed. Slairette however was less than thrilled.

Her voice was when she spoke, tremulous, "...Please...please let me go..." She pulled on the manacles binding her wrists to no effect, shivering in nervous fear. This was the one thing she as a male had wondered about ever since puberty, how woman's body worked, functioned, and as is the habit of males, he wondered how they felt during orgasm.

He had dwelt on the matter over the years of his adolescent and adult life that it became a fantasy, imagining having been born a girl rather than a boy to the litter his mother had birthed twenty years ago. Imagining feeling the curves and soft lines of a female body, the delicious sensitivity of her nerve-endings as they roiled aflame during the seasons of Heat, and finally, how it would feel to be penetrated, mounted and mated, tied and released after the act was done. Slair had spilled gallons of seed on that fantasy alone.

And now that fantasy was given flesh, in this potion-induced female body. Slairette cast her eyes about the room, trying to simultaneously pull her arms down from the vulnerable position the chain put her in and to feel herself at the same time, for want of the sensation of her own hands. Dominaratal smiled widely, secretly sending a thought to a mind not Slairette's, and sat proudly on an intricately-carved wooden throne. Slairette's ears pricked up when she heard footsteps nearby, and the sound of cloth being parted, and smelled the scent of another male.

He was powerfully built, she saw as he came into sight, and graceful as well, maybe a full foot shorter than Dominaratal, his antlers would have barely reached her forehead. The deer stood in the partitioned doorway, casting a coveting, possessive look everywhere his eyes alighted. His chestnut-colored fur was short but coarse, lined with furrows of scars from past conflicts. He wore a simple codpiece-and-breechcloth over his pride, and a pair of braided leather ties were snug around his thews.

"This is Fyoh'Rah'Tinhei," Dominaratal said and gestured for the deer to fully enter the dark chamber. He did so, his gaze falling to Slairette's soft curves, and she could *feel* him scrutinizing her, every inch of her speckle-furred self going aflame, as if it were a Heat season. Fyoh spoke, words of a language and dialect not of Brackenwaif, and Dominaratal nodded, understanding his tongue fluently.

"She is the one promised, honorable Fyoh, yes," she purred, smiling wickedly at the hyeness. Understanding snapped into place in Slairette's mind and she renewed her ineffectual efforts for freedom, and opened her mouth to plead for the deer to aid her, but somehow, her tongue had been struck motionless in her head, without power of her own voice. Instead, what came from her throat was a moan, not of fear or pain, but one of intense desire, one wrought from her without her volition, but also without the dragoness' coaxing.

Again Dominaratal grinned at her. "She has professed a great interest in serving me this way, honored Fyoh." To Slairette, she sent:

I need the help of this barbarian's forces. He promised to enlist under my command his forces if I provided him with the one sexual conquest he had been unable to find: a hyeness.

I am going to expand my territories, Slair, and I need more soldiers with experience in battle that the like of Tinhei's have.

Slairette sent back, Why me? Why this way?

Because, the dragoness returned, Politics is all about give and take. Compromise. The strong and the weak. I am strong, Mongrel, and I mean to stay that way. If you mean to be with me, in my endeavors and in my bed, then submit.

I know that you want oh so eagerly to...It's so apparent that I can see it running down your leg...

And indeed, without even knowing it, Slairette's sex had moistened, the fur around her 'lips sopping from her flowing juices. Absently she rubbed her thighs together, whimpering. Her nipples had stiffened, her breasts aching for the feel of a harsh squeeze. Turning slightly to look at the barbarian, she saw that he had shed and cast aside what little clothing he'd worn, his massive cock standing at rigid attention as he looked at her with the same covetous light in his green eyes. He shifted from hoof to hoof, hands opening and clenching in barely held restraint.

He wanted to fuck Slairette, and that lust made her feel special in a way, to think shat she had something he wanted, and even if she was at no liberty to deny him, it was up to Dominaratal to grant or refuse Fyoh the right to take liberty of the hyeness' body. Either way, yea or nay, Slairette thrilled inside at the prospects.

Tinhei spoke again, a seeming question, one the Lady Shadescale was happy to answer.

"Yes. For this time, this horny little bitch is all yours. This once, and your warriors will aid mine in taking what I need." Fyoh gave a small smile to the chained-up hyeness and approached, his member jutting out before him like an accusatory finger.

He curled around her, rubbing her over her sides, hands cupping her breasts as he moved to stand flush against her back. She could feel the heat of his cock, even through her fur, but still she struggled, whimpering an unintelligible string of sounds. She felt his blunt teeth on her neck when he bit her, and reveled in the feeling of being bitten. Tinhei twisted the rings in her nipples sharply, bringing from her a sharp cry of pain, and an even more delectable thrill.

Fyoh had trailed a hand down her stomach, over the bodice she wore, and she felt his fingertips press in the fur of her belly, both fearing and exhilarated as to the destination of his hand. The barbarian's fingers were gentle but inexorable in their strength, and his touch against her inflamed and sopping sex was miraculous. It was as if a flare of electricity shot from the area of her crotch to all points, all particles of her flesh that she crowed out loud, pressing her hips against his hand, her flesh eager for more.

The deer stroked the lips of her cunt slowly, twisting her nipple-ring with such fervency, that she nearly collapsed from the sensory overload, but somehow Slairette was still aware, even when she began to writhe, wiggling her hips back at the barbarian in seeming eagerness. While she pressed her bottom against his length Tinhei slipped a finger into her folds, to find that her hymen was still intact. This hyeness was indeed a treasured morsel the Lady Shadescale had given him! The walls of her vagina were snug even around his fingers, and he knew it would be even more tight on his cock, but that is not to be helped. Slairette trembled so violently against him that the links of the chain binding her hands rattled softly.

Perched on her throne, Dominaratal watched, rapt, very pleased that things were going so well. Tinhei would join in her cause, and Slair would get what he wanted, as aberrant a notion the hyena thought it. Two falconids with one arrow.

Tinhei fondled Slairette's handful-sized breasts while the hyeness still futilely tried to wriggle free of the deer's grasp but at the same time rubbing her thighs together, torn between the need to get away from the insistent hands and the desire to lean into them. Still licking her neck, Tinhei diddled her, sending millions of granules of heated glass just under her skin. The sensation was pronounced around her sex, and Fyoh's handling of her did little to alleviate it. Instead it seemed to get worse, the glass-bits changing from granules to entire shards. Sweat dappled Slairette's fur, and the hyeness licked her lips, leaning her head back to give a sort of sighing moan up towards the ceiling. She felt fingers caress and hold her chin, turning her face, and felt the barbarian's lips meet hers forcibly, his tongue cavorting with hers. Distracted, she didn't notice the absence of his hands' movements at her sex until she felt one hand lift her left leg up while the fingers of the other hunted for her clitoris, pinching the sheathed nubbin of hypersensitive flesh between thumb and middle-finger. Her eyes flew wide and the hyeness cried out so shrilly that her voice was for a moment inaudible.

Never, in all the hyeness' years of fantasizing had such a physical sensation been experienced! Staring up, past the ceiling to whatever gods rested in the heavens, Slairette gave herself to the movements of her transmuted body, gave her will to the moment and circumstance. It felt as if some blindingly-bright sun was shining through her vagina, while Tinhei's fingers were devoured eagerly by her secret flesh.

The barbarian said something, but not knowing his language, Slairette guessed it was something lecherous. And it was.

"He says," Dominaratal translated with bated breath that spoke of a kind of sympathetic arousal, "that you are quite eager for a virgin. He's quite amazed." The dragoness murred as she did something unseen, probably something better left to the male part of Slairette's personality to think about. Slairette herself was more concerned with the feeling in her own flesh as of the moment, and who was giving them to her.

Tinhei put a hand to the small of her back, bowing her stomach forward slightly until she cocked her arms to bend forward almost double. Such a vulnerable position she stood in, and couldn't be more ecstatic. It was almost impossible to imagine being both, but somehow she managed to do just so. Absently she felt a coolness on her fur when Tinhei released her from his grasp only to feel his touch again when he took hold of her hips. Out of instinct she braced herself, and with reason. Something hard and hot pressed against her sex, causing the hyeness to gasp and whimper. Tilting her hips up ever so slightly, she relaxed the muscles in her thighs and belly.

The heat in her stomach doubled when Tinhei pierced her, his blunt tip pressing against her virginity with a deliciously sultry pain. The palm hovering above the base of her short tail was reassuring, as well as intoxicatingly arousing a touch as any. A cooed word from the deer, and he pushed again, breaking the wall of her sex with one thrust.

The pain was violently terrible, and it was over, melting into a pleasure so deep it felt as if her insides had turned instantly to jelly. She quivered, moaning as Tinhei made a true woman out of her. His slow and gentle thrusts soon became more forced when her inner walls began clenching down on his penis. He breathed into her ear, snorting while he rutted her. Never before had a victim of one's body's rebellious tendencies been so fulfilled!

Yes, yes! her mind cried out, words the dragoness was apt to notice, but Slairette didn't care. The wordless moans escaping her lips were loud and soulful, almost like a song borne of the flow of the planet's life-energy. Her voice rising to a crescendo when the deer that had mounted her bugled out, signaling his impending climax, the hyeness tensed, knowing in her soul what was to happen, and wanting it to. Fingers grasping her hips hard, Tinhei flooded her vaginal depths while still he rode her. Slairette screamed aloud, pressing her hips back against the deer, falling over her own abyss just after the barbarian had. She trembled along his length in the instinctual need to perpetuate the high of climax.

Finally, falling to chain's-length, the hyeness hung shivering all over, her flesh cooling from the sweat that soaked her fur. Tinhei stood still until he could no longer impale her with his meat, gasping to regain his own breath, his balls aching from emptying so completely. It had been everything the barbarian had imagined to be in fucking a hyeness. If he could, he'd petition the Lady Shadescale for a trade of the hyeness Slairette. Perhaps a trade in slaves....

Slairette was slowly coming down off her high, feeling disoriented when she stood, pulling herself up with the aid of the chain binding her wrists. The dark was complete, and cold penetrated every square inch of the room. Without an ounce of confidence in her voice, the hyeness called out, "Hello...?" The silence of a tomb answered. There was nothing, not a feeling, not the suggestion of the merest eye-shine. Not even a glimmer of thought from Dominaratal. There was just cold and darkness.

Alone... Slairette thought, bereft. Her shoulders slumped as she felt an immense disappointment. Then there came the sound of a great door opening, and a sliver of light that widened to a wedge and then a half-circle an interminable distance away. The dragoness strode in without preamble, and standing with her arms crossed casually against her stomach, she said, "Well?" The hyeness knelt, feeling pathetic. Again the dragoness seemed amused.

"So how does it feel, then, Mongrel?" She asked while rubbing her fingers along her throat, a smile alighting on her muzzle. Slairette blushed, tugging on the chain. Dominaratal murrumbled, waving a hand in Slairette's direction, and the manacles opened, releasing the hyeness.

"Come one then. We'll talk in my chambers."

Slairette was given time to bathe and change into the clothes she as a male had worn, which now seemed two whole sizes too large. But Dominaratal's assurances were that she would grow into them when the hyeness changed back.

"When is that exactly?" She asked while poking her breasts experimentally, fascinated. "Provided you can stand to peel your attention away from your female form," Dominaratal sighed with infinite patience, "you can change back any time you like."

"Really?" Slairette asked, surprised at being given so much power over herself. She gave a breast a final poke and tried to figure out the physics of it. "How?"

"Will it to happen, dear." Dominaratal gave a grand gesture. "Everything is governed by the will, Mongrel. I've told you this before. You should really listen when I teach you these things. Or I might be apt not to repeat myself." Slairette cringed down.

"Yes ma'am."

Hours passed in abashed conversation between the two, Dominaratal asking her forward questions and Slairette blushing with each answer. The most embarrassing question had been asked at last--

"So how did it feel to be the one being fucked instead of the one doing the fucking, Mongrel?" The hyeness was going so red that Dominaratal thought she would pass out from sheer loss of blood to the brain. She tried waving the question away but Slairette still answered, although she was quiet of voice in doing so.

"It felt...good..." she muttered, wishing she were invisible at admitting such a feeling. "I felt desired...wanted on a whim...I can't really...." She shook her head, absently reaching for the cigarette case she vaguely remembered she'd gotten rid of months ago in an effort to quit smoking. Defeated in trying to avoid talking by indulging her habit, thereby escaping embarrassment, she said. "I like being fucked...Fates damn me I like it..."

Dominaratal just murred, putting a hand on her shoulder in a comforting gesture.

"Now you know how it feels. How do you plan on proceeding? And when do you plan on changing back?" Secretly she was impatient to have her lap-dog back, but she'd indulge the hyeness' fantasies a little while longer. Just for the sake of it.

Nervously twiddling her fingers, Slairette asked "Will I be able to become female again, whenever I want? And back again?" Total surprise fell over the dragoness' face. Mongrel liked being of the opposite gender that much?

"Of course, dear. But I can't help wonder why."

"...Because when I'm a girl, I feel sexy...and feeling that way turns me on...I can't explain why...I just feel more alive...more willing to do things I'd never as a guy even dare to even think about...now that I know someone can read my thoughts like an open tome." Slairette told this last bit in a suggesting manner, and let it go at that. "You said you could read my desires, everything about me easily. Couldn't you sense that, too?"

Admittedly Dominaratal couldn't sense it, which was odd. Normally she was able to peel open anyone's mind layer by layer to the inner workings and devise a way to use the information to her advantage. But that she'd missed Slairette's intense desire to feel what it was like as a female came as a great surprise. Maybe the hyeness had a reserve of command over her own mind that some things could yet remain unsaid, secret. She'd have to look into it at another time.

Dominaratal realized the hour and chuffed a laugh. It was well into the next day!

"Go home, Mongrel." She murred, rubbing one of the hyeness' ears between thumb and forefinger. "Change back into a male before you come to me again this night, though. Maybe we can figure out some more fun for us to have when you are again a girl, but tonight, I feel like having a companion who's got more in their pants than I've got in my bra." Slairette blushed again, stood, drained her drinking-glass of the apple-ale she'd been sipping from, put on her coat, and excused herself from the dragoness' presence.

Dominaratal noticed in amusement that Slairette's hips had a feminine sway to them as she walked away.

Nervously Slairette hurried home, cradling to her stomach a pair of packages she'd bought at one of the stores not advertised by any sign over the door. That had been one of the places people went to obtain items and information not available to the public at large. The paper-wrapped object was about a foot or so long, and a couple of inches in width, shaped like a cylinder, like the handle of a miniature torch. The other was larger, a flattish square that had the fancy signature of the most revered seamstresses in all of Brackenwaif. Revered at least, among those who liked their clothes related to country matters....

Slairette locked the door to the apartment and made sure that the crack under it was firmly stuffed with one of the spare blankets. Then she began undressing, leaving her clothes in a messy trail towards the bed. Her underwear came last, her male body's briefs, drenched through.

She tore through the paper of the squarrish parcel first, pulling a pair of black silk-and-lace stockings out, just her size. Slowly she pulled one up, licking her lips as she felt her own fingers caress the lips of her femsex when the hem touched the apex of her legs. Then the other, this time pinching her clit and rolling it between thumb and forefinger, much to her pleasure. She admired the shimmer of the silk, how soft it felt against her leg, how snug but conforming to her flesh. Just barely, she reckoned, she thought she could feel her quim moistening.

She laid back onto the bed, lifting her legs and rubbing along their lengths to her shapely ankles, humming softly, delighted at every prickle of sensation. Giving her lips a lick, she lifted her hips somewhat, and legs in the air, to give her own bum a small slap. She jolted at the feeling, and did it again, harder this time.

"You like that you little bitch?" She asked herself, closing her eyes to escape herself. Doing things this way just made it easier, she found, and more exciting. She spanked herself again, holding onto both ankles with the other hand. "You like being hit, don't you? Pain loves you, is your pleasure." Another vicious slap and a yelp.

"Yesss..." she hissed, answering herself, "I'm just a coward...I can't tell anyone...hurt me more...." Smack. She jolts again, her ass a light pink through her fur from the spanking she administers to herself. When the hand doing the hitting is not doing so, it is diddling her sex, much to her gasping happiness.

For hours she explored herself, every nook and cranny (but especially her cranny) of her female self, delighting in every heated feeling when her flesh ravished her senses. As a male, it is simple arousal, jerking, and pop goes the semen. As a woman, there is delight in every touch, each caress. She twisted the rings in her nipples until she thought she would pull them out, biting her inner forearm to keep from crying out too loudly.

She sank a finger into the pucker of her asshole, raising her short brush of a tail, hissing and adding another digit to the first, pummeling her tail hole while she lay forward, grasping the posts of one of the bed's corners to steady herself. The feeling welling in her lower stomach rose to a level that it seemed a river of magma flowed through her veins. The moment had come.

Unwrapping the last package, she took the second item she'd bought from the plain brown wrapping paper, and closed her eyes while she licked at the faux penis's blunt tip, face reddening in her embarrassed arousal. Slairette engulfed the dildo in her muzzle, murring softly against the soft fake-flesh of it. She rubbed it between her breasts, squeezing them together against the dildo's thickness. She pressed the tip to her tail hole, shivering at the feeling of pain and pleasure, deciding to try that particular place another time.

Her breaths came in ragged gasps as she rubbed the shaft against her labial lips, and she back in Dominaratal's castle again, bent over before the barbarian Tinhei, waiting the final push and groan. Impatiently waiting. Waiting.

Smoothly, slowly, her sex's natural lubricants making the penetration that much easier, she slid the fake cock into herself, pulling hard at the sheets of her bed, biting the pillow under her chest. Her pussy felt like it was on fire with pleasure, each shard of heated glass running in her veins only adding to the excruciatingly tensile condition of her body's willpower. She slid it free almost past the tip before guiding it home again, voicing a soft-voiced coo--"Ooh...ooh...ooh..."--time she filled her depths with her new toy, imagining the barbarian leaning over her....

Deep into the night Slairette experimented, explored, teased. Miles away in her castle, Dominaratal , amused, felt each climax the hyeness brought down on herself. She herself had had to rub off anytime an especially over-powerful orgasm came to her through the link she shared with Mongrel. She grinned, licking her fingers of her own juices before severing the link to finally get some sleep.

At least he's discovering what he likes....