Accepting Alteration
Wilmot kept his hand on the hilt of his sword as he approached the building. Tall, sturdy, and well kept, the building was out of place in comparison to this run down portion of Axenrock City. That was not the problem to the paladin of Jop, however. He would have been glad to see any portion of this poor place improve in some way. The problem the paladin had with the place was the woman who stood in front of the building. Not only was she scandalously dressed and not even legally so--in direct violation of Jop's divine precepts, in fact, blessed be his will--but she also radiated evil. His detection of her iniquities was not in his imagination; rather, again it was through Jop's divine will that he could tell she was not merely evil, a few misdeeds here and there. Indeed, her evil seemed to be so deep that she could not be anything but hellspawn. It was for this reason that Wilmot had a problem with the building, for if a lesser evil waited outside then what greater wickedness lay inside?
Wilmot's suspicions were confirmed as he neared the building. The structure radiated evil of larger magnitude than the suspected strumpet that even now leered at him.
"Hello, sir," the woman said in a sultry tone, bending forward just the slightest so that he could see her cleavage--or that's what he would've seen if he had not kept his gaze firmly fixed on her face. He knew better than to be tempted by such simple pleasures of the flesh.
"Good morn, ma'am," Wilmot answered back briskly. "How much?"
The woman laughed in a tone that was as playful as it was dark and sinister. She sized up the paladin.
"For you?" she said. "The first time is free. We'll just have to get that armor off first, won't we?"
"Hmph," Wilmot grunted, staring forward in thought as the woman advanced upon him, laying a hand on his armored shoulders and giving them a caress. "I might consider your offer but I know the truth."
"Oh?" the woman said coyly. "And what's that?"
"That your services always have a price, hellspawn!" Wilmot cried as he drew out his sword and delivered a cut through the woman's torso in one swift motion. The sword glowed a vibrant gold as it passed through her. Rather than draw blood, the assault caused the woman to burst into flame. As she burned at an accelerated rate, she brought her now clawed hands to her face, horns growing out of her skull and skin shifting red. Her true demonic visage was only visible for a moment before she burned away totally to ash. Wilmot looked at the remains of the succubus, nodded his head with conviction, and made his way to the building's door. With sword raised high and a yell, he burst into the building.
Expecting to find the place filled with the succubus's sisters ready to battle, Wilmot came to a sudden halt when instead he saw three strange sights. First was that the interior of the building did not match the exterior. Inside it was dark and the ground and floor were constructed of cold, carved stone, not wood. Second, a pair of dog-sized green scaled, wingless lizards was mating in front of him. Even at his intrusion, the guard drakes did not stop. Instead, the one on top stared at him hostilely as even it continued to hump the female on bottom who did not even give him a glance. He turned his gaze away in disgust from the rutting reptiles and that's when his eyes fell upon the third sight: a robed man who sat upon a throne of bone, hunched over as he listlessly browsed through a dark tome that seemed to bleed shadows. Wilmot's next breath caught in his throat at the sight of the man. Sure, there were plenty of robe wearing evil doers known to the followers of Jop and he couldn't quite see the man's face, but his pure heart told him what dread foe sat before him. He took the stopped breath and then another after it before speaking.
"Zenir," he said, loudly and clearly. He lifted his sword and pointed it at the seated man. "Butcher of Horn River!"
"Hmm?" Zenir said, looking up and closing his tome after another moment of browsing. He threw the book to the floor, whereupon it dispersed into smoke and shadows. Getting to his feet, he looked to the paladin. "Yes, that's me, though I prefer--"
"You come to Axenrock alone? You fool!" The paladin spat. "Surely you know Jop's justice would be upon you!"
"Axenrock?" Zenir tilted his head. "Ah yes, that is where you were."
"Were?" Wilmot wondered. He risked a glance back to the door. Instead of finding a door, he saw a door shaped hole in reality that showed where he had left. Rapidly the size of the portal shrunk and shrunk until the window to Axenrock City disappeared entirely. Realizing his predicament, Wilmot growled and returned his focus to Zenir.
"A trap!" Wilmot snarled. "You think you've trapped me, warlock, but you've only assured your own doom!"
"Sure," Zenir said with a shrug. "You're right, I'm doomed. Even though I was the one ingenious enough to plan this out and you were the one foolish enough to fall for it, I'm the one who should be worried. After all these years, after all I've done, I, Zenir of the Dark, will die by the blade of--"
Zenir held a hand out towards the paladin.
"Wilmot, paladin of Job, servitor of the Missing One Tynir, justicar of--"
"Yeah, yeah, you."
"Yes, I," Wilmot bellowed. "I will strike you down here and now and when I do a chorus of--"
What Wilmot meant to say next was drowned out by the screeches of the drakes as they finished their mating. Wilmot looked at the drakes in disgust as the male dismounted, giving his mate a nip before taking his place by his master's side.
"Sorry about that," Zenir said. "Ward and his girl can be rowdy at times. I'd say they were just animals but..." Zenir waved his hands around. "That's not exactly true. Now, you were saying?"
With a yell, Wilmot charged Zenir. The robed man raised an eyebrow. Just as the paladin moved within striking distance, Zenir waved his hand nonchalantly.
The paladin grunted as an unseen force took hold of him. He was able to resist it for a moment and inch a little closer to Zenir and then he was thrown back into the air. He landed on his back with a thud and a groan a little further from where he had started his charge.
"Hmm," Zenir said as the paladin groaned. "Are you sure you're a paladin? If you aren't and you're just an overly religious warrior, I could understand. If not, then either your faith is nil or your Jop is a very, very weak god."
"Jop," Wilmot gasped, rolling onto his stomach. "Is stronger than you, necromancer."
"But you're not."
Wilmot crawled forward and reached for his sword. With it still out of his reach, he floundered. He had to get closer still.
"Now, what to do with you?" Zenir held a hand out and the book from before materialized from the shadows into his palm. The pages turned of their own accord as he considered. "What would he appreciate? What would your Jop find aberrant?"
Wilmot snarled. "Jop's righteous servants will strike you down even if I fail."
"You already have," Zenir said, the book suddenly closing. As it vanished once more, Zenir pointed a finger at Wilmot. A formless blue cloud sprang from the finger and drifted towards the crawling paladin. "But perhaps you will succeed at a role a little less...zealous."
Wilmot shuddered as the cloud covered his body, dissolving and infusing it with mystical energy. Wilmot expected pain, but he felt momentarily numb instead. Thinking this a sign of his god's protection, Wilmot let out a wheezy cheer. Still prone, he lurched forward towards the sword. This time his hand did reach it. As he got a good grip on the weapon, he heard a clatter behind him and felt hit feet exposed to the cold air. He looked back in confusion. His eyes widened for his boots had slipped off his feet and his feet...they weren't his feet. What poked out of his armored legs were small digitigrade paws covered with blue scales and possessive of four clawed toes.
Though the sight should have frightened him, Wilmot instead found resolve. So this was how the warlock meant to defeat him, by changing him into something else? A frog, perchance? No matter, he would strike him down before the spell could fully take effect. Wilmot lifted the sword and braced himself with an elbow to stand up when his strength suddenly left him. His sword dropped to the ground with a clatter even as he sought to reclaim it. As he set his hand to the sword's grip again, he found his gloves too large, his fingers too small and short to manage them. In addition, his pinky seemed to have stopped responding as if it weren't even there. Now actually worried, Wilmot shook the gauntlet off his right hand and help the exposed flesh up to his face.
Wilmot recoiled, blinking rapidly in pure disbelief. Just like his feet, his hand just wasn't his. His hand was now smaller, almost dainty, the digits now transparent talons and their number four rather than five. The hand too was withdrawing, disappearing into his sleeves as if his arms were shrinking. He desperately grabbed for the weapon with his other hopefully unchanged hand. He only succeeded in flinging off the ill-fitting gauntlet and revealed both arms were equally altered. Worse, his helmeted head hit the ground a moment later as his neck lacked the strength to support the heavy helm any longer. In addition, his view was altered. He now saw from the helmet of where his nose had been and his gaze moved lower and lower still with each passing second. He attempted to move in some way, but what he had in will he lacked in muscle. Soon enough his view was at his neck padding and not even out of his helmet. His face also pushed out farther than before, uncomfortably positioning his head to the back of the helmet.
Wilmot could scarcely see and he could barely move. He could wriggle around, but this hurt more than it helped. Points of his body at his upper back and chest poked painfully at the armor in ways he did not understand. Essentially, he was trapped in his own armor and there was only one way he knew out of it other than waiting until the change was over. "Jop, your faithful servants calls to you," Wilmot said, his voice slightly higher pitched than before. "Help me!" It was not the divine that answered Wilmot's plea, but Zenir's sardonic voice.
"Help you?" Zenir said. "I suppose I could."
"No! None of your--" Wilmot ceased talking for a moment, for his voice sounded high and sweet and pitiful despite his intention on it sounded gruff and threatening. The next words were even weaker. "None of your witchcraft."
"Fine," Zenir replied. "Ward will assist then."
From within his confines, Wilmot heard the sound of claws on the floor as something drew near to him. Then he felt as something clawed and grabbed at the lower half of his armor. Shortly after, his armored breeches pulled away. Although his legs felt oddly cool and he could feel something of his idly twirling in the air he realized his opportunity to escape was now.
Carefully Wilmot squirmed out of his armor, his soft chest still crushing painfully at times and protrusions on his back being constantly clipped. Finally, he removed himself from his protection, stumbling backwards as he regained some semblance of sight. He bumped into something in his movement, causing him to glance back. Ward the guard drake stood there, apparently the creature that had extricated him from his situation. He growled at the paladin, but this was the least of Wilmot's concerns. Although he still wore an undershirt and underwear, these vestments fit loosely on his much smaller frame and, more importantly, a blue scaled tail poked from between them, long and thin with a small split at the end.
"Ward, come here," Zenir said, the drake following its master's orders. "So, do you like what I've done, paladin?"
Wilmot pulled his gaze away from his new tail and looked forward. His mouth fell open at what he saw next. Standing in front of him was a small oval shaped mirror that Zenir held up with a smile on his face.
In the reflection stood a short blue scaled humanoid. It had a reptilian head with a short snout, large eyes that protruded out from the rest of its visage, and two short antennas that poked out from its head. Its mouth hung open, revealing flat herbivorous teeth save for two incisors that could cut into fruit if need be.
Lowering his gaze, Wilmot found the creature had two noticeable bumps protruding from its upper chest and something at its back that caused the large shirt it wore to ride up its back. Its hips were wide and arms and legs long and thin. Its feet and hands were like what the paladin had seen before, clawed and possessing of four digits.
Wilmot blinked and so did the creature in the mirror. Whimpering, he looked down at his own chest and found that the reflection was reality. The two bumps on his chest seemed even larger up close and the fine points pressing out that could only be nipples were more obvious. There was no questions that the teardrop shaped lumps were Wilmot's; they were firmly attached, though wobbling a bit with every deeply indrawn breath.
"Admiring yourself?" Zenir asked. "Your new master should be here momentarily. Why don't you get a better look until then?"
Zenir moved his hand the unseen force returned, pulling Wilmot's shirt up and off. The paladin's perky breasts bounced free. Now exposed to the cold, his nipples became stiff and hard. She shuddered at the sight of her mammaries and they bounced again in response.
Removal of Wilmot's shirt revealed more than a pair of bouncy breasts; his wings too were now free. Symmetrical, they resembled butterfly wings save that they were much larger and less delicate. They flapped a bit while Wilmot brought his clawed hands to his breasts. He cupped them and gave them a light squeeze. When his crotch tingled, Wilmot's gaze fell past his breasts, over a smooth scaled stomach, and to his concealed nethers.
His underwear, too large and overly stretched by his childbearing hips, chose that exact moment to fall. Now completely nude, he could only stare at what his nakedness exposed. Instead of seeing what he wanted, he saw what he expected: a smooth, feminine crotch that seemed empty in comparison to what he had once possessed. She had a feminine slit now that was topped by a small nub, the soft, fleshy folds of his sex slightly puffy.
Wilmot's knees gave out in a moment of weakness and she fell on her rear, legs spread. Her mind was in a daze. Though being female was truly not the greatest of her changes in comparison to the loss of human appearance for a reptile like one, the growth of new appendages such as her tails and wings, and an overall loss of strength and size, but it was the last in a series of revelations that she had been fundamentally altered in more than one way. A glance at the mirror confirmed these changes, her wide spread legs only giving her further view of her altered crotch. She looked into the creature's eyes in the mirror...no, her eyes in the mirror and tried to pull forth some resolve. Instead, she felt empty, devoid of any hope. It seemed the warlock was right...she was doomed.
Wilmot's focus was shattered when she felt warm metal enclose her neck. When she heard a click, she looked down at a black, circular ring that had been placed around her neck--a collar. She lifted her gaze to who had place it on her and saw it was a newcomer, a large black scaled reptilian who wore armor of a hue even darker than his scales. He stared down at her hungrily and there was something in his eyes Wilmot nearly recognized. She didn't have much time to study them before he turned his head towards the man behind the mirror.
"She is pretty, master," he hissed, slinking an arm down to cup one of Wilmot's breasts. Wilmot nearly moaned, but stopped herself, suddenly remembering Jop's precepts regarding sexuality.
"Unhand me, villain!" she squealed.
"Quiet, girl," The reptilian growled, squeezing her breasts even harder. This time Wilmot did cry out from a mixture of pleasure and pain.
Wilmot meant to deny her captor's words, but she hadn't the strength. She was a female after all, if not in mind at least in body.
"She's feisty. I'll train her out of it soon enough. What is she modeled after?"
"Faerie dragon," Zenir answered. "I hope you enjoy her. It's a small reward for your loyalty."
"I thank you, even though we both know it is loyalty I dare not betray."
"Yes," Zenir said, nodding with a smile. "I know. Still, enjoy."
"Oh," the reptilian said, licking his lips. "I will."
Zenir snapped his fingers. The mirror warped away into a portal to a well-furnished bedroom.
"In you go," Zenir said, motioning to the opening.
"Up, girl," the reptilian said, hauling Wilmot to her feet by the tail. She whimpered as he pushed her forward. "Forward."
She followed his instructions, too broken for now to disobey them especially with Zenir around. He had proven himself dominant, even stronger than her deity. A moment later, both stepped into the portal. Once they both were completely through, not only did the portal close but part of Wilmot's resolve returned. Zenir was gone, after all.
Wilmot glanced around the bedroom. A small smile spread across her snout as she spotted a curved sword (surely light enough for her) hanging above the bed. Before she could plot further, she was sent stumbling forward by a strong push from behind. She landed on the soft bed with a squeal, quickly rolling onto her back so she could keep her gaze focused on her captor. Although she was aware of her precarious position, her open legs exposing her sex, she daren't move any more as he approached her.
"What was your name?" he asked, grabbing her by the wrists and forcing her to sit up.
"W-Wilmot," she stuttered, frightened by his strength and her vulnerability.
"Wilmot?" he snarled, moving his snout closer to his until they nearly touched. "I recognize the name. Do you recognize me?"
Wilmot shivered, summoning up what little strength she had to look her captor straight into his eyes. When their gaze locked, the little faerie dragon's large eyes bulged out. She saw eyes she recognized in paintings and pictures as well as a memory of seeing them upon a very human face once. She also saw the fire within them, a violent mind given outlet with the excitement of domination. Her diminutive form trembled and her antenna twitched.
"Tynir?" she squeaked, shivering as the words left her muzzle. She sobbed. "No, no--"
"Yes, girl," Tynir grinned, clapping the diminutive female's snout shut. "Oh, yes."
Wilmot whimpered, small hands grabbing at Tynir's grip on her snout. He snarled as he brought his other hand to her neck. She instantly stopped moving.
"None of this is random," Tynir said. "Though don't mistake this meeting for divine providence."
Tynir's hand on Wilmot's neck drifted lower until it settled atop one of Wilmot's breasts. Tynir cupped the mammary, lifting it up as he moved his head close to it. He opened his mouth and gave Wilmot's stiff nipple a lick with his rough tongue, causing Wilmot to let out a murmured moan.
"You are what you are because I desired it so," Tynir continued, bringing his head back "I am what am because I chose it."
"N-n-n--" Wilmot managed.
"No?" Tynir said, letting the breast fall from his grasp. His hand now traced down Wilmot's side, caressing her curves as it got closer and closer to her nethers. "No, it's a yes. You are the one torn from your city, reshaped and reformed for my use. I, on the other hand...I know what's going on here. I know your purpose as well as my own. Don't you wonder why I am what I am? Like you, I believed in Jop's will. Unlike you, I had the strength to lead others, not just follow blindly. At first I crusaded for Jop's cause, but when my success brought me fame and fortune, I bought into extravagances that neither Jop nor his followers approved of. At that point I did not care for I had my own faithful followers. I was already a traitor to my own faith when I left on my last crusade before any of my iniquities could come to light, and on that crusade I came across Zenir."
Tynir rubbed Wilmot's smooth stomach before finding his way to her groin. Wilmot's eyes widened and she shook her head pleadingly.
"Shh, it's okay, my butterfly." Tynir murmured. "Zenir bested me easily. He could have killed me, but that is not his way. Instead, he twisted me into something useful. At first I, like you are now, was angry and afraid, but I realized I had so much more to gain in his service--just as you will soon realize. That is why I have you."
Tynir rubbed the area outside Wilmot's soft folds. It was still enough to stimulate Wilmot's arousal and set her trembling again.
"It took me some time to understand why Zenir had changed me. Why do that when he could have convinced me to his side without irrevocably altering me? Now I know--it's about the power." At these words, Tynir suddenly pinched Wilmot's clit. Unused to this part's sensitivity, the female faerie dragon squealed mutedly. "It's about control. Though it was not my magic that changed you, I can still shape you my own ways--I had him leave your mind for a reason. Your mind, mmm...you can already feel it, can't you? You want me to take you right here, right now, don't you, girl?"
"No," Wilmot said quietly.
"Oh," Tynir said, releasing Wilmot's mouth. "And why not? Does this--" he rubbed her folds. "Not feel good? I can give you more? Is it not what you want?"
"No!" Wilmot cried out. "I am Wilmot, paladin of Jop. I will not lay with aberrant creatures!"
"NO!" Tynir snarled, suddenly standing up, large and imposing. "You're no longer Wilmot. You no longer have a name. You are my girl. If anyone asks you who you are, you refer to yourself as 'Tynir's girl', you understand me?"
Wilmot meant to speak, but Tynir's looming presence drained her courage. Instead she shook her head.
"You don't understand? Then have all my words been wasted? Consider carefully, girl, for I know ways beyond words that would demonstrate your real role. Now, do you understand who you are?"
Wilmot looked up at the strong, armored reptilian and felt the last bit of her resistance drain away. She realized she had to give in for now. Looking down at her own frail, feminine body, she knew she stood no chance against him physically. This was not a battle she could win at the moment.
"Yes," Wilmot sobbed, looking up at Tynir. She felt tears came to her eyes, the shame of her defeat making her feel deeply sad and ashamed in a way it hadn't before.
"Yes? Then who are you?"
"Tynir's--" Wilmot gulped and looked away. "Tynir's girl."
Tynir grabbed Wilmot and forced her tearful eyes to look into his solemn expression.
"And who is Wilmot?"
"M-m--" Wilmot stuttered, when Tynir's grip on her face suddenly tightened and his eyes hardened "I--I don't know! I don't know!"
"Mmm," Tynir mumbled, turning his head. "Are you sure?"
Wilmot nodded vigorously.
"Good. And who am I?" "Tynir."
"Your--?"
Wilmot opened her mouth but nothing came out. Tynir looked at her expectantly, his hold flexing just a little bit. Wilmot whimpered and gasped: "Master."
"Yes, yes," Tynir repeated, tapping Wilmot's collar. "If you ever forget, look there. There's no name upon it, just as you have no name. Its color too should remind me of you. Do you understand that?"
"Y-yes."
Tynir smiled toothily and suddenly grabbed Wilmot's sides. The faerie dragon trembled as she was lifted up and off the bed.
"No need to fear, my girl. I'm just putting you in your place."
Wilmot let her master carry her to the corner where a wooden chair sat. He placed her upon it and then turned his back to her. He grabbed the curved sword off from above the bed. He flourished it, cutting this way and that in the air. A moment later, a hellish portal opened. Tynir threw the sword back to its place and folded his arms across his chest, watching as a succubus stepped out of the portal. Wilmot gasped when she recognized her as the demoness he had slain earlier, though she was completely naked now and all of her demonic heritage was on full display. She gave Wilmot a wink and blew her a kiss before turning to the standing Tynir.
"Who's that, master?" The succubus asked huskily.
"My beautiful butterfly. She refused me tonight, so I thought you might fill in."
The succubus laughed. "Of course, master, of course."
Tynir's armor suddenly melted off, revealing the black scaled, well-muscled body beneath as well as what hang between his legs. Despite herself Wilmot found herself staring at her master's member. It was put to use soon after its reveal as Tynir grabbed the succubus and forced her onto the bed.
"No foreplay, eh?" The succubus said.
Tynir wordlessly penetrated her. Wilmot looked away in disgust at the sight. This proved only to be a temporary respite for she could still hear the lewd sounds of her master's and the succubus's intercourse. Even covering her ears only muffled the noise and it took all of her willpower not to open her eyes and watch. Each moan the succubus made and each of Tynir's grunts made her want to look and see what exactly was going on.
No,_she thought. _I won't let dark magic change my mind too!
Still, Tynir's eyes opened eventually because she just had to focus on something else other than the sounds she heard. Her gaze fell to the collar. She regarded the black ring and then placed her hands upon it. Tynir had placed it upon her effortlessly enough so she should be able to take it off just as easily, right?
Wilmot struggled with the collar and so did she struggle to keep her eyes on it. The black metal interested her far less than what was going on at the bed, so it was soon that her attention was brought to that activity. Every few seconds she glanced back and forth between the collar and the fornication in front of her. Slowly, ever so slowly, she gave more and more attention Tynir and the succubus and less and less attention to her fiddling with the collar. Eventually she ceased her fruitless efforts with the collar and just watched them, Tynir especially. Disgust gave way to curiosity as she wondered what she, in the succubus' position, would feel and then she began to feel a little bit jealous. Why wasn't she on the bed where the succubus was? Why was she seated in the corner here, alone and ignored when she was the one best shaped for her master's pleasure...her master's--
Wilmot screwed her eyes shut and tried to clear her head. She couldn't fall this easily. She was a paladin of Jop, not some villain's mistress. Still, her mind was not filled with virtuosity but imaginings of explicit activities between Tynir and her. Try as she might she could not banish these fantasies.
Wilmot's eyes came open when she heard her master let out a loud grunt and the succubus a scream. She looked over to the pair and saw that they were finished, a still naked Tynir sitting against the headboard while the succubus crawled off the bed. The succubus walked into the portal and when it closed shortly after she stepped into it.
"Girl," Tynir said, causing Wilmot to flinch. She met his gaze, her snout suddenly flush and hot. "Did you enjoy the show?"
Wilmot did not answer. Tynir chuckled and lowered his gaze. The faerie dragon followed where he was looking until her gaze lay at rest on his member. It was covered in some of his ejaculate and still erect, though it softened by the second.
"Girl," Tynir repeated. "Part of your duties as my mistress will include some cooking, caring, and..." He smiled. "Cleaning. Why don't you clean some now?"
Wilmot blinked once she understood what he meant. She shook her head.
"No?" Tynir snorted. "Are you telling me no, girl."
"N-no," Wilmot stuttered.
"But you just shook your head. Do you really want to disobey me?"
"No."
"No?"
"No...no, master."
Wilmot whimpered as she stood. Tynir nodded as she took a step towards the bed and continued to nod with each step she took. Wilmot crawled onto the bed, kneeling in front of her master.
"Go ahead," Tynir said, nodding towards his crotch. "Do it."
Wilmot whimpered again as she lowered her head to Tynir's member. Her long tongue flicked out and then she was actually doing it, licking away at Tynir's manhood until it was clean. She sobbed once in the process, a single tear rolling down her eye. When she was finished, she looked up at Tynir pleadingly.
"Good girl," Tynir said. "Very well done."
Tynir reached forward and embraced the trembling faerie dragon.
"Shh," he said, petting her head and giving her a quick kiss. "It's ok. You've gone through a lot today. Why don't we rest?"
Wilmot let herself be pulled in close to Tynir's strong chest. She felt comfortable and safe in his embrace and vulnerable too. For this reason she cried, the last thing she remembered that night being Tynir's comforting murmurs before she fell into unconsciousness.
Wilmot awoke the next morning groggy and alone. She slowly sat up from her comfortable coil of bedsheets, mind still numb and calm. When her eyes fell upon her chest she was immediately more awake for it was here she saw her breasts, her scale covered skin, and was reminded of her frail form and the horrors of the day before. The warm feel of the collar upon her neck was another reminder that she was no longer the man she had been last morning. She was Tynir's girl now and--
She shook her head. No, she was a paladin of Jop. Last night had been a mistake, a moment of weakness. She did not want to be what she was and did not intend to stay this way.
Wilmot's reflection was broken when the door to the room opened. She sat up straight and also pulled the bed sheets up to cover her nakedness. In stepped not Tynir, whom she had been expecting, but a strange creature. It had the head of a cockroach but the body of a humanoid and it wore butler's clothes. It regarded her with its black eyes, its antenna twitching.
"Out of bed," it droned. "There is work to be done for the master."
"Work?" Wilmot said.
"Yes," the creature replied.
Wilmot suddenly remembered what Tynir had some the night before about cooking...and also how she had cleaned him. She stuck her tongue out in disgust.
"I will not," she said. "A paladin of Jop bows to no evil! I, Wilmot, will not bow before any master but Jop!"
"Very well," the creature said, and promptly shut the door.
Wilmot blinked. She hadn't expected it to be that easily. She did get out of bed, keeping some of the bedding wrapped around her so as to not leave her totally naked, and began looking around the room. There was not much to it other than a door, a window which opened to a small porch, a dresser and the sword that hung above the bed. She looked through the dresser first, but it was empty. She then turned her attention to the sword. She struggled with getting it off its hangings for a bit and when she did force it off, it fell onto the bed where she could barely muster the strength to lift it. After that, she tried the door but it was locked. One look out the window showed the porch hung over a vast infinity of blackness so there would be no use going out there. It was at this point that Wilmot realized her mistake. She should've followed the strange insectoid if only in order to gain access to a greater portion of the abode she was in. Now she could only wait until either the insectoid returned or Tynir came for her.
While Wilmot waited, she sat on the bed and tried to pray to Jop. However, she found it impossible to get in the proper mindset to meditate because every time her mind cleared it was instantly filled with images of Tynir, Tynir and her in intimate positions, and Tynir's manhood. Thus, Wilmot laid in the bed and waited, eventually falling into a dreamless sleep.
Wilmot awoke the second time that day when she heard the room to her door open. She sat up and saw the insectoid had returned.
"Dinner," it said, immediately walking away.
Wilmot gathered up her makeshift clothes and followed after it. Together they went down a set of stairs, took a right, walked down a hall with many doors before taking a left at one whereupon they entered a small room that contained a dining table and two chairs of which Tynir sat in one of. He looked at her angrily when she entered.
"Drone," he said, looking to the insectoid. "Why is she clothed?"
"Her choice," Drone replied.
"She does not get that choice," Tynir snarled. "Unclothe her."
"No!" Wilmot yelped as the insectoid did as Tynir commanded. She squealed and struggled but in the end she was left standing naked in front of her master. She shivered and did her best to cover herself, her arms over her breasts and her tail curled up over her womanhood.
"Girl," Tynir said, getting to his feet and approaching her. "Why do you disobey me?"
Wilmot looked up at Tynir and quailed in fear. He looked disappointed in her, so disappointed, but also very angry and that upset Wilmot. She shouldn't be upset, this shouldn't be upsetting. Why was...why was master so angry?
"No..." Wilmot whispered, unbelieving.
"No? You did not disobey me. Then why did Drone tell me you told him a name, a name as if you had one? And now you come before me hiding your beauty! Why?"
"I-I--" Wilmot stuttered.
Tynir reached out a hand and place a claw on Wilmot's snout. Immediately tears began to fill the faerie dragon's eyes.
"I'm sorry, master!" Wilmot sobbed. "I'm sorry!"
"I know you are, girl," Tynir said, his voice suddenly soft. "But what is your name?"
Wilmot blinked away her tears and shook her head.
"Are you telling me you have no name?"
The faerie dragon nodded. Tynir chuckled and removed his claw from Wilmot's visage. He took a step back and looked to Drone.
"No dinner for her tonight. Leave her bed bare too. Perhaps she will be more helpful to both of us tomorrow."
"Master!" Wilmot said. "Please, no!"
"It's what must be done. You were a bad girl and bad girls must be punished. Off you go."
Wilmot could barely see through her tears as she was lead away by Drone. She heard the dining room door slam behind her, another reminder of her catastrophic failures. She was so distraught that her next memory was of her standing in front of her bed, still crying as Drone stripped the last of its sheets away. Then the insectoid left her to lie on her bare bed, shivering for lack of warmth.
While she lay there that night she hoped that Tynir might come for her, to provide some warmth and comfort but he never came. Sleep did not come easily to the troubled faerie dragon. Before she might have been more upset that her god had abandoned her, but her master's disappointment weighed mostly heavily on her. She did eventually fall sleep only to be awoken at some time later in the night to strange sounds. A few seconds of listening confirmed her worst fear--Tynir was with someone else. Worse, he was sleeping with someone else, probably that whore demoness from before! Wilmot wailed at the thought. Why didn't master love her? He had her shaped into this form, the one most pleasurable for him and still he chose others. Wilmot continued to listen to the noises, wishing it was her at the receiving end of whatever her master was doing rather than whoever it currently was. It was only when the noises died down did Wilmot find some rest.
Wilmot awoke the next day hungry and still somewhat distraught. She lay in the bed, naked and waiting for Drone. When he finally came, she followed him into her master's kitchen. There she was satiated, though not with the food she would normally eat. The insectoid prevented her from eating any meat, which she found strange at first but she soon found that various strange fruits and vegetables were much more appetizing for her. After eating her fill, she did as Drone directed. Together they both constructed a meal for their master that included many meats and a few fruits and vegetables so that Wilmot could eat as well. When it was finished Wilmot waited in excitement for master to return home so that she could serve and please him.
Unfortunately for Wilmot, her master did not return home in time for dinner. In fact, he did not return at all. The faerie dragon waited in the dining room for hours as the food grew cold and unappetizing. She refused to eat and protested when Drone removed the food from the room. Still, she followed Drone out of the dining room and back to her room. When Drone closed the door, she collapsed on the still bare bed and the tears came once more. Where was master? Why had she abandoned him? Why didn't she love him?
Eventually Wilmot rose out of her bed and came to stand before the room's window. She opened it and stepped out onto the porch. She gazed into the abyss below. What point was there in living if her master did not care for her? She was perfect for him and still he hated her.
Woefully Wilmot climbed onto the railings at the edges of the porch. She took a deep breath, her wings flapping as she considered what she was about to do. Just before she jumped, she heard movement behind her.
"Girl," she heard a familiar voice say. "What do you think you're doing?"
Wilmot gasped and spun around. Tynir stood, tall and strong and naked. She rushed to him and he embraced her.
"Master!" she said, tears of happiness now rushing out of her eyes. "Where were you? I worried, I thought--"
Tynir smiled as he led the frail female into the room. The bed was now furnished again, ready for their use.
"I know," he said, pushing her onto the bed. "You needn't worry, my beautiful butterfly. You did well, girl, you did well. Drone says you did everything as you were meant to."
"I did!" Wilmot said, turning around to look at him, eyes wide and happy. "I did!"
"Well, then there is only two more things I can ask of you, girl."
"Yes!" Wilmot squealed. "Anything!"
"First: what is your name?"
Tynir's girl looked up to her master in confusion, which was answer enough for him.
"Good, good, my beautiful butterfly. Now why don't you bend over?"
And so she did, happy to be loved, happy to be of use, and happy to have found her place all with the help and guidance of her master.