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Area51: Three Rings for the Elven Kings etc.

This story is set in my Area51 universe, and draws upon characters from previous chapters.

An experiment has caused a fracture in reality through which a mythic ecosystem is leaking.

Three rings for the Elven, under the sky...

But be wary, the rings are restless, they don’t like to stay in one place for long, they slip from hand to hand, or in this case, cock to cock.

_ Riverdive Palace, The Mythic Realm _

“Leglass!, Leglass!” yelled a voice

“For fuck’s sake Durwyn! I’m on the toilet,” yelled back a distressed reply.

“I can’t find the ring!”

“what?”

“I said I can’t find the ring!”

“nhhh, ahh, that better. Hang on love, I’ll be right out,” replied Prince Le’glass, gesturing at the three seashells and instantly feeling cleaner around backside.

Naked, the Elflord walked out into the silk draped bedroom and knelt resting his hands his lovers hobbit sized shoulders. “Calm down… now think, where did you last have it?”

“I was wearing it last night,” sobbed the distressed hobbit.

“Well it’s probably next to your waistcoat, darling,” replied Le’glass, smoothing Durwyn’s hair.

“No, you don’t get it. I was wearing it last night, when we, you know,” explained Durwyn looking embarrassed and gesturing two fingers forming a ring and the finger of his other hand making an in-out gesture. “It was on my cock last time I saw it.”

Recalling the magnificently energetic fucking his ass had received the night before, Prince Le’glass glanced toward the bathroom, a carefully tended eyebrow raised as he realised the hobbit’s implication. “Well Fuck!”

* * *

The Palace of Riverdive was counted as the most modern and sophisticated facility in all the realms. In terms of crap disposal a hole directly below the Princes’ chamber opened directly above one of the waterfalls enabling swift and efficient removal of offensive material without the need for chamber pots.

The ring was three miles downstream when it fell through the rip in reality leading Earth.

* * *

_ Oak Spring Butte, near Area 51 _

Heavy combat boots scrunched along the gravel next to the rotting carcass of what once had been some sort of river serpent. The ring wedged itself between the treads of the boot and continued its journey.

_ Three days later …219b, 34th Street, Glendale, Nevada, _

The heavy combat boots temporarily visited married quarters. Sensing that loud music frequently pumped out of one of the rooms and tracing the future chaos the owner could propagate, the ring released its grip on the boot and embedded itself in the carpet, adjusting itself to fit a different bit of human anatomy, with a smaller diameter.

The alarm clock ticked over to 11:00AM, setting off the selected track “Ace of spades! Ace of Spades!...”

Yawning and scratching hair that had been shaved high-n-tight in preparation for his football scholarship at University, Marco Hernandez stumbled toward the bathroom. Un-noticed, the tiny gold ring slipped onto the index-toe of his left foot and became invisible, it was good at invisible.

* * *

_ Area51: Enchanted Forest Sector 23-F _

Jaay the satyr was just about go down on the Shaman’s cock when he felt someone grip his left hoof. A second later the recently transformed satyr found himself being rudely dragged to the edge of orgy. Soon he was lying on his back, he looking at a cluster of enchanted spear points held by grim faced elven warriors dressed in shining mithril armour.

“Uh…Hi?” he said, reaching slowly toward his pipes.

One of the spear tips lunged forward filling the space between finger and thumb.

He got the point.

* * *

_ Area51: Enchanted Forest Sector 02-J _

Lucas’s 2473rd body froze in mid-flight his delicate dragonfly-wings held within an intricate spell-weaving. A second later he landed hard on an armoured gauntlet. Angrily he tried to sting it with his cock. In the distance his other bodies began to swarm.

“Fuck,” said the owner of the hand in Pixelian.

Lucas paused, considering. Gradually the swarm settled and resumed their orgy. His 2473rd body stood, legs braced wide, hands on hips. “Fuck!” he agreed, nodding his tiny head decisively.

* * *

_ Glendale, Nevada _

Marco finished filling in the College’s Form ‘B12-0Dv3 Course Specialism Sign-up(sport)’ and hit send. Ohio State was so prestigious, and such a daunting distance away from home. He didn’t notice that the field that should have said <672 Team Sports Science: American Football> had actually said <726: Sports Science: Bowcraft/Competition Archery> and the secondary courses in <078 Writing Prep I> and <083:Math – Basic Review>, now read < 531 Masseur: Advanced> and <724 History of Art: An Investigation of non-Egyptian Hieroglyphics and ritual patterns (fieldwork included)>.

In the background his alarm’s playlist switched to the next heavy metal track. Irritated he threw a pillow at it, he hated heavy metal. He couldn’t remember why he’d ever liked the stuff, so discordant. When he had time, he decided, he’d swap the lot out for something close harmony or something by the lady Enya.

He yawned, he’d been awake for whole half an hour, it was time for bed.

Five minutes later Marco was snoring heavily. If anyone was monitoring his stats they would notice that he’d grown a quarter-inch taller and lost a small amount of muscle-mass. The roots of his buzz-cut hair were growing back blonde and his balls had shrunk by 50% and pulled upward.

In the Ohio State University computer system, the A.I. that had escaped from the I.T. Building, during the millennial bug scare of 1999, flinched in horror at the magic that contaminated application document’s code. Without hesitation, it approved the course changes and promptly packed its zip folders, emailing itself to Berkley as an attachment.

* * *

_ Area51: Enchanted Forest, Sector 13-M _

No human had ever penetrated as far as the portal between worlds, the enchanted forest was too dense, the transformative energies too potent.

Had a hypothetical human laid eyes on it they would have said ‘Hey! That vortex looks exactly like the one in that shite film ‘World of Warcraft’ ’. Had one of the hypothetical humans been a hypothetical quantum physicist, they might have concluded that this vortex and the one in the film represented positive proof of quantum entanglement. The only real difference was the sentient river that that thought no one would notice it sneaking through.

Lucas’s 2473rd body sat cross legged on the stone plinth, masturbating. Next to him sat a hot looking young satyr still wearing remnants of human clothes, his hands bound so that he couldn’t get at his enchanter’s pipes.

The Elf guards that surrounded the portal stood to attention as a tall Elf passed through onto the Earth. With the knowledge of an ex-soldier Lucas-swarm immediately knew what he was dealing with, he’d seen the same sort of person several times in his old life. It looked like nepotism was alive and well in the Realm. The Elf Lord was almost certainly the nephew of someone important.

The elf was dressed in a copy of US Marine Battledress. At least that’s what it had been before the Elf-Court’s chief tailor had gotten at it. Translucent silk replaced cotton and goretex, the standard camo-pattern enchanted so that the camo slowly moved and changed over time whilst still allowing a good view of the beautiful slender physique underneath. The combat-webbing looked almost authentic apart from the addition of subtle vine leaf patterned stitching embossed on the pouches.

Lucas-swarm expressed his thoughts on the matter by having the tiny body on the plinth roll around in high-pitched hysterics.

“His Grace Treddian, 59th of that name, Knight Pursuivant to his Highness Le’glass, Courtly Lord of Seldar.” Announced the Senechal. “Give your ear, for your Liege lord speaks.”

Jaay stopped picking at the ropes and ran hungry eyes over the elven high-lord. Unlike the pixie-swarm he retained less of his human memory and his assessment focused on more basic requirements. Although he’d never seen an Elf before, his Satyric instincts said this one was young, less than 100 years old and if not a virgin then close enough for satyr-work. As for the uniform, he noted appreciatively that the boy had ‘gone commando’ displaying the legendary genitalia of the highest race behind the alluring veil of the camo-pants.

The Shaman who’d sung the oral history of the satyr tribe, had extensive lyrics about the ‘genitalia of the highest’. It had been a song of envy at an organ of versatility, flexibility and sophistication that surpassed that granted to mere Satyrii. Normally the Satyrii fucked with anything that caught their fancy, but the genitalia of the highest made the elflords an exception, their prowess was respected.

“Gentle beings,” said Treddian of Seldar, in a voice that Lucas associated with an ‘out-proud rainbow fuckbunny’, the sort of being that led pride marches and danced nude in bubble parties. “My Master commands that I wetweeve a wRing that is precious to him. I have no expewience with the human world, therefore I command you lesser beings to act as my guides.”

The Elven High-Lord drew mystic symbols in the air.

Lucas-swarm felt his body (the one nearest the elf) change, growing back to human size. His other 2000 bodies smiled tiny feral smiles and licked their lips. When this was all done, they could fuck-sting their larger self and double their number. A sub-section of the swarm wondered what would happen if a human-sized pixie stung a human.

Jay shook his head, confused for a moment as his long dormant human soul reasserted itself. He remembered hiking up the mountain and then…He remembered being seduced, tricked by a Satyr into listening to its musical enchantment. It had fucked him, hairy cock ramming his ensorcelled ass until he’d grown horns of his own and willingly bathed in the cum-shots of the entire tribe. He knew that a part of him still wanted it, permanently tainted, but he knew he was stronger. He was human and that meant something, damn it!

He looked down realising he was naked and a second later realising that his legs were way waay more hairy than they should have been. Fortunately his ears no longer stuck out to the sides and were entirely hairless. For a moment he was unsteady on his hoof-less feet. Mentally he listed his priorities, he needed to find clothes to replace the rags the Satyr Jaay had worn as trophies, he needed to contact his family, find his friends, warn someone.

He glanced up at the Elflord and his mind shifted again, his new plans of resistance banished instantly. Nothing mattered anymore, he was an Elf-friend and he existed to serve HighLord Treddian of Seldar. “Master!” he blurted, his recently restored human ears changing a second time. developing a very slight pointy-ness, an owners-mark of sorts. The remnants of his clothes fell to the floor of their own accord and he knelt head bowed.

The High-lord stepped forward and patted Jay’s head as if he were a pet dog.

“Fuck,” said the giant Pixie, his word instantly understood by all present to actually mean...*We’ll need local clothes. With respect to your tailor, Lord, your outfit will not be suitable. Its superior quality would cause envy and discord. You should hide your radiance, lest it cause distress to the humans. Your servants will also require attire, with the Lord’s permission.*

“Lesser races wearing clothes? A little kinky, will that not also cause offenth?”

“Fuck” …*No Lord, they have no lesser races Lord. Everyone is expected to wear clothes, even the working classes.*

Treddian pouted his lips in sulky distress. “Oh very well, fetch something appropriate for the season, a full wardrobe for the entire party. You, Elf-friend, undress me and have some satyrs sent to my pavilion, I will need to be ritually licked clean if I am to wear the uncouth garb of humans.”

“Yes Lord,” replied Jaay, his body slowly looking less satyrii and more elven as he moved to obey his lord.

* * *

_ Ohio State, Columbus _

“Archery, man?” said Pete “I mean what the fuck? For as long as I’ve known you, it’s been ‘the team’, ‘the team’, ‘the team’. You do all that work and now its fucking archery?”

Marco reddened, whilst it was true there had been some sort of error in his class assignments, he’d still felt obliged to go to those classes, even if it was just to prove that he was attending college. Besides, he kind of liked archery now that he’d tried it. He was kind of good at it. Coach said he had a special talent; being able to hit the bullseye every single time was way beyond the rest of the class. He’d even tried deliberately missing, but they’d all just assumed he was showing off with trick shots, that still hit the centre of the target.

Fortunately, Pete didn’t know about the other two classes, his History of magic symbols class was outright baffling and the Masseur training… he could never admit how ‘into it’ he was. Caressing the youthful muscles of his classmates had a lot more going for it than remedial math. The Masseur class had training dummies, but they weren’t being used. He’d kinda mentioned ‘real’ was better and the whole class had agreed, voting 100% for that as the preferred option, the coach had resisted briefly, but had agreed and not mentioned it again. It never occurred to Marco, that the class was breaking a whole library worth of rules about inappropriate behaviour on his suggestion.

“Yeah, I know what you mean, turns out I’m kinda good at that archery shit,” replied Marco, his toe itching.

“Yes, Archery, is a Precious skill.” Pete replied, an odd unfocused look in his eye.

“Well, yeah. Guess it is,” agreed Marco, confused.

“I must change my major.” Said Pete jerking to his feet, discarding his burger and marching toward the admin building “You will need an attendant to help with…”

The end of the sentence lost in the noise of the busy campus field.

“Whatever,” shrugged Marco. Pete wasn’t the first to say weird shit like that. Sophie, the cute Asian girl in the Art class had said something about taking up cooking and Dougy-Ray from the Archery class switched to hairdressing of all things.

A lock of hair slid into his eyes and he brushed it aside in irritation. The guys must have paid his old barber back in Glendale to play a prank; his hair was definitely longer than it should be and they’d somehow snuck some bleach blonde shit into it. Maybe Dougy-Ray could do something with it.

Had Marco, been paying attention, he would have remembered that hair doesn’t naturally put on two inches of new growth in a week. As an athlete, he kept a close eye on his weight, but so far slow reduction in muscle mass had balanced a growth spurt of an inch. There was also the pair of tiny nibs at the tips of his ears that made them look very slightly pointed, he’d dismissed those as a pair of zits at first and now the longer hair hid them from sight.

Not one to waste discarded food, Marco snagged the discarded fries and headed off. An observer would have noticed that wild flowers had bloomed under the park bench, several orchids flowering in the depressions left by Marco’s nikes.

* * *

_ Area 51 Enchanted Forest, Sector 13-M _

“The clothes still Itch!” complained Treddian “And the colour, was there nothing in lilac? Or peach?”

Lucas winced. This was the fifth set of clothes. It hadn’t been easy sneaking gangs of 2” high pixie bodies past increasingly alert perimeter guards. Ok, the first time he’d underestimated the Elflord’s clothing size. It turned out that standing 2” tall ruined one’s perception of height. The subsequent three raids into human territory had been purely down to the lord’s vanity. He couldn’t possibly wear yellow (a highway safety jacket) until after the solstice, shirts with words on them? NO! just NO! Artificial fabric, will it not cause a rash?

After that first raid, he’d not bothered with trying to read shop-labels and instead resorted to asking the victims how tall they were before stinging them. The five ‘victims’ hadn’t suffered and had each assured him that they loved it that they were now Pixie swarms. Several of his bodies smiled in satisfaction recalling the celebratory orgies they’d had after each encounter.

* * *

_ Glendale, Nevada _

Jay walked barefoot along the hot red desert gravel next to the asphalt, absently fingering the collar around his neck. Master had given him the collar, it had a chain that clipped on the front, but Master had kept that with him. For clothing, he wore only a pair of jeans. He loved the jeans, the Master had worn them briefly, before deciding that the blue clashed with his eye-colour.

Behind him was the house where the prince’s cock-ring had been. The female hadn’t wanted to talk to him at first, but a few tunes on his old Satyr pipes soon loosened her up; she’d probably stop dancing in a few hours and put some clothes on. Probably.

The Master would be upset, the ring was in Ohio. With a sinking feeling, Jay knew that the Master would be even more upset once he understood what an Ohio was, and how far away. It was going to be a long journey. Even with the vast, magnificent power of his Master, there was just no way he could see the High Lord Treddian of Seldar interacting well with airplanes or railways.

* * *

_ Ohio State, Columbus _

“…and these symbols were found in the West Kennet Long Barrow near the Avebury stone circle. As best we can tell they are evoking the good will of the Goddess Sulis.” Said Professor English, tapping the tombstone shaped lump of granite with his laser pointer.

“But,” blurted Marco.

“You have a comment Mr. Hernandez?” asked the Professor, icily. “An insight perhaps?”

“It says ‘Idunn was here,’ in Ogam script, and later someone has scrawled ‘Godric luvs Cuthbert’ in badly hand written Saxon over the top,” Said Marco. “The actual evocation to Sulis is the circle with the line through it at the bottom right.”

The class sniggered nervously and Professor English glared daggers at him.

“Sir?” asked Dale, nervously raising a hand and glancing in Marco’s direction. “What circle?”

“It’s right…there,” said Marco, noticing that the circle that had been so obvious had faded to almost nothing. He completely missed that it was him Dale was calling him ‘Sir’ and not the Professor.

Under the desk a vine of ivy pierced the concrete floor and wrapped itself around the leg of Marco’s table.

Anger surged through Marco, as he glared at the offending symbol on the stone. How dare it! Hiding to make him look stupid.

“There! Right there!” he snapped, pointing at the evocation.

The symbol flared, glowing with increasing brightness until abruptly it went dark accompanied by a sound like a thunderbolt. The ancient tablet had cracked in two.

“My word!” said the Professor fiddling with his glasses.

Everyone in the lecture stared at Marco for a long, silent minute before blinking, shaking their heads or deciding they must have nodded off. In less than a minute all memory of the event would temporarily fade back into the subconscious.

Although none of them was thinking about it right then, all of them ‘knew’ that Marco was their Lord, and that they’d do anything to please him. The tiny addition of a third strand of DNA to every cell in their bodies wouldn’t become apparent until later.

There were two exceptions.

Virginity enhances and accelerates magic. As a closet gay from out on the plains, tormented by religious intolerances, Dale had been uniquely vulnerable. His body, absorbing the energies radiating from Marco’s ring like a dry sponge encountering moisture. When he’d entered the class his hair had been short and ginger, when he wandered out again it was shoulder length and platinum blonde, which he fiddled with. Nobody noticed, not even Marco, it was a ‘someone else’s problem’.

The short, stocky heavily bearded Professor was the second exception. He glared daggers at Marco and thought to himself ‘Elves? why did it have to be Elves?’

* * *

Feeling a bit ‘off’, Dale headed back to his room, his stomach churning, organs shifting around to make room for something new. He squinted at the light, everything seemed to be more colourful, brighter, louder.

It was all about Marco, he’d figured that out. It had started almost from the first day in class. The guy from Nevada had an aura, colours were brighter and more vibrant near him, the room noticeably less chilly when you stood near him. Dale had known he wasn’t attracted to girls for a long time. Attractive guys turned him on… but Marco was different, it took an act of will to not run up to him and hump his leg like a dog. Like a fool, he’d tried to deny it. He’d been careful to sit as far from Marco as he could in class. He’d learned he could resist the temptation to stare and drool for the whole lesson if he was far enough away. All those precautions were irrelevant now. The pulse of superpower that had cracked the stone had revealed the truth to him. He wasn’t just lusting after Marco, he belonged to him. Marco was his Lord and his purpose in life was to give pleasure and make him happy.

Dale smiled, it felt like a weight had been lifted. He no longer needed to worry about a career or exams, Marco was his world.

Once inside his digs, Dale closed the curtains, locked the door and huddled down in the corner, squeezing his eyes shut and clasping his hands over his ears to shut out the crescendo of noise, people talking, traffic, the hum of the aircon, roaches skittering, his heartbeat and the inner gurgling of organs bubbling away. He was changing, something to do with his Lord’s power, he was certain. He felt no panic, certain that Marco couldn’t be responsible for anything harmful.

After a while he slept, dreaming of his Lord, of spreading his legs wide and allowing Marco to take him, ramming a beautiful alien cock into vagina-like folds. He didn’t notice the rose bush that sprouted from the floor, covering him with a gentle cocoon, flower petals brushing gently against his skin, viciously poisonous thorns facing outward.

* * *

Marco was feeling a bit weird after the business with the stone tablet. His stomach churned. He was about to head back to his room, when he caught sight of a figure waiving gayly at him. Dougy-Ray had changed a lot since dropping out of the archery class; gone was the plaidshirt wearing farmers son in favour of a veritable peacock of lycra campness. Marco squinted, the daylight seemed brighter than usual, it looked like Dougy-Ray was fizzing with a firework-like aura.

“Marco, Darling! We are soo going to have to fix that hair of yours. I simply can’t have you looking like a haystack!” said Dougy-Ray, picking up a skeen of Marco’s hair that now rested three inches past his shoulders.

He tried to object, but Dougy-Ray took him firmly but gently by the hand and guided him toward the halls of residence. The ring on Marko’s toe glowed invisibly, washing away any thoughts of resistance.

Before he really understood what was going on he was in his room seated in front of the mirror, his hot lycra-wearing hairdresser running a cheap plastic comb through his hair, hair that now reached as far as his nipples. At some point his shirt had gone missing. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was the incredibly erotic sensation of the now-silver comb sliding through his hair, it felt wonderful.

The next thing he really noticed was that Dougy-Ray was sitting on his lap, gently weaving his hair into a pair of rat-tails that he said were intended to hang down in front of Marco’s ears. Having a hard cock pressed against his crotch like that, felt oddly right, he wished Dougy would lean forward a bit, push it, slide it deep into slippery spaces. That last was a strange fantasy, physically impossible, him not being a woman and all.

Suddenly Dougy-Ray was gone from his lap and standing behind him, hands gently threading Chinese silk ribbons inscribed with luck-spells into his creation. For the first time in a couple of weeks Marco felt his mind clearing, truly seeing himself as he now was. He was not himself. He was tall, a lot taller, with an androgynous physique completely different from the muscular football player he’d been when he boarded the plane to Ohio. The buzz-cut dark hair was now almost waist length platinum blonde, just now woven into a style his hairdresser eagerly explained was called ‘Norse god No.3’.

Then he noticed his ears, sweeping back to elegant points. Not just slightly pointy like a star trek Vulcan prosthetic, but ‘lobe-less, seriously fuck off pointy’ like you saw on the Japanese anime.

Dougy-ray ran a fingertip along the edge of the upswept ear, it felt really good, even better than having his hair combed. He knew that theoretically he ought to be really bothered about the ears and found that he wasn’t.

“There Lord, that’s much better,” said Dougy-ray apparently satisfied with his makeover.

“Uh yeah. It’s not a bad look I guess. Say Dougy, why are you calling me Lord?”

“Because we figured it out,” said Dougy-ray smiling with an almost insane grin and brushing back his long hair to show off slightly pointed ears. “You’re responsible. You’re our Lord.”

“I don’t understand.”

“There are three of us like this, with the pointed ears, Lord,” he said showing off his slightly changed ears. “We kind of instinctively noticed one another and compared notes. According to a Bestiary we found in the crypto-zoology library, we’re, like, Half-elves. The thing is, you’re the common factor, you’re the only person all of us hang out with. We figure you are almost certainly a full-on High Elf… or you’re becoming one,” explained Dougy-ray, seriously.

“I’m still not buying it. Ok, the ear thing is freaky-weird; but nothing I’ve done could cause any of…of this,” said Marco, gesturing at his whole body.

“In my case , I just brushed against you getting to class, there was this static-zapp and then I knew that you were my Lord and that caring for your lovely hair was my life’s ambition. A couple of days later the ears and the other improvements had grown in,” he glanced down at his crotch which seemed flat and cock-less under his lycra running shorts. “You don’t realise yet, but you’ve already acquired a cook, Sophie, and a valet, Pete, We’ve been trying to figure out how to break it to you, but couldn’t think of a way that wouldn’t sound freaky. But then I saw the state your hair was in just now and I simply HAD to act.”

“Thanks, I guess,” said Marco giving his hair a shake, his reflection really did look magnificent, his hairdresser had done impressive work and the luck charms really added an aura.

“With your permission Lord, I’d like to text the others, now that you’re aware of the full situation. I’m sure Sophie will want to discuss your dining arrangements and preferred menu for the week ahead and Pete will want to bring the rest of your clothes over.”

“The ‘rest’ of my clothes?”

“Cloaks, tunics, robes, a little black dress, all sorts. He’s making them himself of course, all in your size. I’ve become something of a fashion expert from watching Pete these last few weeks. The things he’s made for you… they’d belonged on a Paris catwalk, if they weren’t for your personal use.”

Feeling a bit overwhelmed by it all, and still feeling kinda wonderful after the hair combing, Marco nodded approval. Something about having Dougy-ray hanging around was reassuring, as if he’d been very lonely for a long time and not realised it.

* * *

_ Route 15, North of Glendale _

“Fuck,” said the 5ft 6” tall giant pixie, meaning… *You realise this is a terrible plan? The Army are bound to notice.*“Master can’t travel by car anymore. Its beneath his dignity,” replied Jay.

“Fuck,” said Lucas-swarm, meaning... *Let’s be clear about this, our Lord Treddian is feeling carsick. It’s not a curse, it’s not an allergy to human technology or poison. The boy is freaking carsick.*

“Show respect,” hissed Jay, offended on his master’s behalf. “Besides, we are about to witness the true power of an Elven High-Lord.”

“Fuck,” sighed Lucas-swarm, wishing he was back home getting fucked in every orifice by his other bodies.…his word meaning *Ok, ok, it’s just my sister really liked that show. If I-we were still human I’d be offended.*

* * *

The door jingled and all conversation in the truckstop bar ceased, it was that sort of a bar.

Noticing the sudden hostile silence, Red glanced up from the pool table. Reaching over he nudged Big Ed. The guy who’d just come through the door was seriously mistaken if he thought he could just walk into a bar dressed like it was fucking mardi-gras. The bar had standards, a dress code that viewed even the wearing of a collared shirt & tie as deeply suspect. This guy had seriously crossed the line.

“Hello good fellows and well met,” said the tall young man in a pastel-rainbow shirt that he’d tied up to reveal a smooth unmuscular torso with a leaf shaped belly-button piercing.

“Fucking Brit,” hissed Big Ed.

Red nodded in agreement and stepped up slapping the pool queue against his palm, this was going to be fun.

“I don’t like you,” he said and glanced at Big Ed. “My friend doesn’t like you either.”

“I’m Lord Treddian of Seldar, but you can call me Treddy,” replied the fag. “I think I’ll call you Rainbow Dash, and you can be Fluttershy!”

The boy brushed past, walking up to each of the bar residents in turn, calling them stupid names, “Twilight Sparkle, Applejack, Pinkie Pie..”

“Why I oughta!” growled Red, swinging the pool.

The boy raised bejewelled fingers, gesturing like he was using sign-language.

The pool queue clattered to the floor and Red stared in shock at the bright yellow hoof where his hand was supposed to be.

“How Wude of you, Fluttershy. You’re a very bad pony,” said the boy, looking somehow more dangerous, like he’d been martial arts trained in some gay-ninja shit. “But that’s ok, when we’re done, we can be friends. I’ll let you have a sugar cube, and you can lick my fingers.”

Red felt a warm glow run up his arm and then flow across his skin until it focused on his forehead. The spot on his forehead was becoming hotter and hotter without actually being painful. Raising his human hand, he touched the spot, feeling a small bump that rapidly twisted and telescoped outward forming a two-foot-long horn. He pulled his hand away, but it was already too late, the bright yellow hoof attached to his wrist was an exact match for the first one. A ruff of blush-pink horeshair flourished around his wrists and his arms itched as a short yellow fur emerged, looking like it had been freshly groomed.

Red staggered backward, horrified. It wasn’t just him! Twilight Sparkle, Applejack and the others were also changing, their clothes turning into tiny flower petals that fell to the floor like confetti.

The spots of magical heat moved to a location under each of his armpits, the skin bulging forming vast pink feathered wings. Un-able to believe it, Red flapped his wings awkwardly. He understood the internal signals now, he could feel the changes accelerating, knew his face would change next.

“Bsstrd! Whhy?” he managed to sputter before his lips and teeth began to transmute”

The tall elf boy lowered his hands and nodded, “Yes, I suppose you deserve an answer. It’s quite simple weally, we need to fly up to Ohio and you were handy. Don’t worry, this sort of thing is pretty routine where I’m from. You’re just temporarily becoming a herd of Unicorn-Pegasus hybrids. I’ve picked a species that’s natural to this world so you won’t be too conspicuous. “Easy now, In a few moments you aren’t really going to be capable to negative emotions anymore…but I’m sure you’ll be ok with that.”

By the time Treddy had finished speaking Fluttershy had already bent over so that all four feet were on the ground. The change of stance from bipedal to quadruped had helped her see things more clearly. Instead of fearing where Treddy’s fire would move next, she awaited it eagerly. She swished her lovely pink tail from side to side as all signs of genitalia vanished. As a quintessentially virginal creature she had no use for such things either physically or mentally.

Treddy extended his hand; as promised there was a sugarlump. Fluttershy crunched it greedily and licked every last trace of sugary goodness from her rider’s hand.

“Good Girl,” said Treddy, gesturing again, causing the entire truckstop and all the vehicles in a fifty foot radius to become cherry blossom and flutter away on the desert wind. “Oh, and if you want me to turn you back into an angry drunken human when we’re done, you just have to ask.”

Fluttershy snorted, shaking her head.

* * *

Stood at a safe distance from the ex-truckstop, Jay turned to Lucas-swarm and raised an eyebrow that seemed to say ‘I was right wasn’t I’.

“Fuck!” Said Lucas-swarm meaning…*Ok, That’s some powerful shit. But he missed a bit.*

The rear end of an eighteen-wheeler that now ended in a brightly polished cut-line, sat next to a mound of pink petals where the rest of the vehicle had been. Several decapitated teddy bears tumbled out of one of the severed shipping crates onto the carpet of flowers.

* * *

‘Dog’ Addams slewed the tractor to a stop and watched the herd of Pink, Yellow and light blue unicorns race across his field at cracking on for 60mph, the rider’s seeming too tall for their steeds, but that hardly seemed to matter. He thought about it for a moment, opened the beer cooler he’d welded to the inside of the cab door and took a long swig. Whatever the hell that was, it was definitely somebody else’s problem.

* * *

_ Ohio State, Columbus _

Marco watched the three half-elves sleeping peacefully, huddled in a tangle of arms and legs in the corner of his apartment’s lounge/kitchen room. They’d insisted on staying, looking horrified when he’d pointed out that they each had their own digs. The pitiful expressions had melted his heart and he’d grudgingly said it was ok.

In the clear light of day he was certain it was the right decision. He had no idea how he was responsible, but he ‘knew’ he had to take care of them. Keeping them close reduced the risk of awkward questions from the faculty.

They’d changed so much. Physically Sophie had changed the most, somehow losing her impressive bosom and becoming boyishly flat chested, insisting that she was now named Saavi, not Sophie. With Peter it was the mental changes that were more profound. He’d known Pete since the try-outs back in high school, that Pete had been a quarterback and could have reeled-off game stats for the last six seasons; the new version was slender and seemed to have the same degree of obsession, but refocused on fashion and specifically making his Lord Marco the best dressed Elf on campus.

Marco wanted to feel disturbed about the changes and angry on their behalf, but instead all he got was this instinct to be fiercely protective.

Unfortunately, he was now pretty sure he was definitely to blame. He’d noticed that his half-elves were sensitive to his presence even when they were sleeping. Their peaceful faces would turn toward him, wherever he stood. If he stepped closer they became restless, beginning to wake, when he moved away their slumber deepened.

He deliberately took three paces closer. Instantly his nightshirt-clad half-elves were awake and scrambling to their feet.

* * *

One floor down, the cocoon had fully matured, a pair of roots had found the faucets and filled the pipes. Another set of roots had broken into the refrigerator and infested the food there, extracting and pre-digesting it. The cupboard full of canned food had suffered a similar fate, as had a mouse who’d tried to hide rather than run.

Inside the cocoon, a large fleshy flower had grown, vaguely cock-like it dribbled honey-like precum onto Dael’s waiting lips. The partially transformed student’s eyes fluttered and he licked, hesitantly at first and then with more vigour, eventually the movements were indistinguishable from those of a skilled blow job.

In a sense it was training, when the virgin’s transformation was complete, he would instinctively know how to bring the sophisticated cock of a high elf to multiple orgasm with a single lick of his prehensile tongue.

His ears were already much longer than those of the half-elves, a badge of status, his virginity enhanced transformation deeper and more profound than theirs.

* * *

Marco headed toward Professor English’s class, wearing a doublet and flouncy sleeved shirt that Pete, now calling himself Petair had designed. The shirt fit perfectly and he could ‘feel’ the admiring glances as he passed. Consulting the Professor was a long shot, but if anyone could maybe help, he was the one. He hadn’t told the half-elves what he intended, sensing that they’d disapprove. He was pretty certain they liked being his slaves.

Surprisingly, the normally bustling auditorium was empty when he arrived. The Professor was the only one present, un-pinning a poster and carefully putting it in a cylindrical plan-tube.

“Professor? Is there no class today?”

“Cleary not, thanks to you!” snapped the Professor.

“I don’t understand?”

The professor paused and pushed his half-rim glasses up his nose, studying Marco more closely, walking nearer and then circling around him inspecting him from all sides.

“Interesting,” he mumbled to himself, before boosting himself up to sit on one of the desks. “So. Pop-quiz: What happens when you expose a large group of people to a shit-ton of plutonium?”

“They get radiation sickness?” replied Marco

“Exactly. That’s why there’s no class today and why this room will be off limits until new year.”

“There was a radiation leak?”

“Deities preserve me!” muttered the Professor. “Let me re-phrase. What happens when an Elven High-lord manifests a high order majehanic field in a crowded classroom?”

“Uh?” said Marco

“What happens, High-Lord Marco, is that all my students call in sick because they’ve realised history of art is no longer important to them. They’ll be hibernating right now whilst they grow the damn pointy ears and realise that their one true purpose in life is to serve you in some capacity,” said the Professor.

Marco swallowed nervously, “They’re all becoming half-elves?”

“Half-elves? I suppose you could call them that, they’re the drones to your queen. A bee has a hive, an Elven High-Lord has a court. Same thing, different name.”

“Is there anything we can do? To turn them back I mean,” asked Marco.

“Well there is a way, if their High-Lord dies before sunset tomorrow. I’m going to go out on a limb and guess you aren’t keen on dying for them,” replied the Professor, a slight smile hidden by his beard.

Marco shook his head, eyes wide.

“Thought not. You really are fascinating, you know. I only ever heard of three Elf-courts and they’d been around for tens of thousands of years. I never expected to encounter a juvenile collecting his first court… let alone one that didn’t know what he was.”

“Juvenile? I’m… you’re saying I’m not adult? I’m going to change more? Become some sort of monstrous hive-queen?” asked Marco.

The Professor laughed hard, slapping his thigh. “Sorry, my fault for too many bee analogies and not enough birds. Ok, no, you aren’t going to turn into bus-sized egg-factory. That said, Elf sexuality isn’t human sexuality, it’s pretty close but not identical. Elves pride themselves on the ‘refinement’ of their tackle, and consider it a far better design than any other species. Of course, that could just be their racial arrogance talking. I won’t go into detail, it would be unfair to spoil it for you.”

Marco’s mouth went dry and he licked his lips nervously, not liking what he was hearing. Talk of sex made his stomach feel odd.

“Relax, every species is hardwired with appropriate instincts. When you’re mature you’ll know what you need to do with young Dale.”

“Dale? The redhead dude who sits in the back row?”

“Yes, that one. He’s how I knew what had happened. He was visibly transforming into a High Elf right there in class. I’m surprised you didn’t notice.”

Inside his left trainer the Ring’s glow intensified, nudging things along a bit.

Dale. Now that Marco thought about it, the Prof was right. Dale, the shy one, who quickly looked away whenever he’d glanced in his direction. The one who was more handsome than he thought he was, who’s innocent laughter was so attractive. Dale, who’d had that sort of male-model elvish body shape all along, the sort that could be mistaken for a girl in the wrong light. Marco realised he’d actually been paying a lot more attention to Dale than he thought he had. He’d been hot for Dale and not noticed. Now that he really focused on it, it was obvious, Dale had been getting taller and slenderer since the beginning of term, they both had.

On a hunch, he thought back to just after the accident with the stone, just when everyone was leaving class. Dale’s hair, he’d seen Dale absently brush shoulder length locks of blonde hair aside to reveal an ear that was more like his own than those of his half-elves.

“I… I never realised…I Need to find him,” said Marco, almost shocked by his own words.

“Thought you might,” replied the professor. “They say the adolescence of a High Elf lasts less than a day. I’d guess your instincts are saying finding him might be important to you.”

Marco turned and ran for the door, feeling a roil of emotions, he had to find Dale, had to protect him and ease him through whatever had happened. But that could wait for a second, more importantly he needed to know what his junk was going to look like. Flipping open his phone he speed-dialled the half-elves. “Petair! Photograph your cock and send the picture to me right the fuck now. When you’ve done that you three need to find the rest of my History class, they’re like you now. I’m going to check on Dale.”

“Yes, Lord.”

A few seconds later, the phone’s birdsong-like notification chirped. Marco stopped in his tracks, looking at a picture of some junk that looked functionally male but completely different in all the minor details. His insides squirmed again, feeling loose and wet. The Prof hadn’t been wrong about instincts, the picture was definitely ticking some boxes. Saving the picture to a new porn folder ‘hotelfz’, he paused for a moment and then deleted the folders next to it called ‘hottwink’ and ‘hotchix’, flipping the phone-case closed.

* * *

_ Big Derby Creek, nr. Columbus, Ohio _

The herd of brightly coloured unicorns cantered to a stop, using the placid surface of Big Derby Creek as if it were an airport runway, landing in single file on water that was locally as hard as diamond under their hooves.

“We will stop here for the night. Arrange for suitable accommodation,” instructed Lord Treddian “Make sure there is entertainment.”

“Yes, Lord” replied Jay “Would you like me to beguile some humans for you to toy with?”

“Yes, pick out some premium ones, mind, nothing crusty,” replied Lord Treddian, offering Fluttershy a sugarlump. “I’m told One has to sample the local delicacies when one is abroad, its respectful.”

* * *

_ Ohio State, Columbus _

Marco took the stairs in the hall of residence three at a time, heading toward Dale’s rooms. He vaguely recalled that Dale had mentioned being in the same halls of residence on one of the few times they’d spoken. He paused on the third landing realising he didn’t know exactly where. He grabbed a random student who was coming down the steps.

“Do you know which room is Dale’s, … Dale Saunders?” He asked.

There was a crackle, like static, and the guy’s hair turned blue; the elf-power was getting stronger.

“He’s in rooms are 3-21, High-Lord,” replied the half-elf, dropping to one knee and bowing his head.

“Damn! Sorry I didn’t mean to do that.” Said Marco “My room is 4-23, I expect some of my… my entourage will be there to help you adjust.”

“Yes Lord! Thank you, Lord,” replied the new Half-elf, stood up, bowing respectfully and then racing up the stairs, his coat and backpack abandoned, his T-shirt discarded by the next landing.

When Marco reached Dale’s door, he realised that it made sense. Dale’s rooms were directly below his own. If he was like a nuclear reactor then Dale had been exposed here as well as in class. The door was locked and ringing the doorbell got no response. A chill of fear ran up his spine, what if the magical mutation had gone wrong somehow? He hammered on the door with the flat of his palm. On the third hit the door shattered, turning red and translucent before sloshing to the floor absorbed into the gritty carpet squares.

Examining the liquid dripping from his hand, Marco licked his finger experimentally. Blackcurrant flavour.

“I am so fucked,” he murmured, neatly demonstrating an ability with precognition.

The inside of Dale’s rooms looked like a forest glade, lush jungle growth obscuring the walls. Nothing remained of the lounge furniture. Cautiously he stepped over the threshold. The room reacted, the grass covered floor became dotted with white daisies, the larger plants also coming into bloom. Orchids, lilies and honeysuckle, all of them white, and distressingly virginal.

Something cold tugged at his foot and he looked down at the open toed woven leather boots Petair had given him, somehow his toe had snagged on a gold Cock-Ring. It looked far too precious to leave lying around, so he tucked it in one of his pockets.

In the kitchenette where the jungle was thickest, something stirred, a slender long-fingered hand trapped inside a tangle of nasty looking thorn-vines. Pointing at the vines he gestured as if brushing them aside. Obediently, the vines slithered out of the way to reveal Dale curled naked in a foetal position on a bed of rose petals. A final twisted rope of vines seeming to pull away from Dale’s bellybutton.

Marco stood stunned, his mouth open. Dale’s change was complete, he’d become elvish perfection, long upswept ears, waist length pure white hair and a slender physique with only the slightest indication of powerful muscle underlaying the smooth surface. Occasionally in the past, he’d seen a hot babe or swimmer-guy and gotten an embarrassing woody, the feeling he had now was something ten times, a hundred times better? Worse? Better!

And then all his clothes fell off, falling through his limbs as if either he or they didn’t exist.

They were both naked, and that felt really appropriate. His cock stirred, moving in a sort of odd way. He looked down at his junk, and felt his universe move sideways. With a moment of clarity, he understood that ‘something’ had been preventing him from noticing his own crotch. His balls were completely gone, along with his ball sack, they’d been gone a while.

Inside his cocksheath, the cock meat seemed to be busy splitting in two, like an embryo cell dividing.

It was changing! He was changing! With a shock, Maeraeco realised his name had just changed. He feared suddenly that his life’s memories, even his soul were in jeopardy.

He began to hyperventilate, feeling the sudden wriggling and churning in his stomach move uncontrollably downward, making his cock feel at first just odd, then sort of loose and then as if it wasn’t one or two cocks, but several, all rock hard, straining at the sheath that contained them.

His sheath wriggled and twitched as lumps and bumps protruded and retracted, looking like lovers wrestling under a duvet. There was another surge-like feeling he associated with embryo-cell division. His cock now looked sort of like a rosebud made flesh, petal-like layers of labia(?) tightly wound together so that the final result looked cock-like, just more sophisticated. Like Petair’s, but larger, more potent. This… this was right, this was what it ‘should’ look like.

He sighed, slightly relaxing. In response, his flower-like cock blossomed, the fleshy petals unravelling and lying flat, revealing a slit. Immediately he tensed up, fearful and aroused at the same time. His cock petals twitched and curled back up into a male mode.

“The fuck?” he whispered, clenching and unclenching the cock-muscles switching from male-ish to female-ish until he was satisfied he could do so at will. He didn’t dare touch it. Knowing how good it felt as the labia-petals moved against each other, he was certain any touch by any hand would send him over the edge. He needed a clear head, he needed to focus.

Dael’s long delicate forefinger reached across and traced along the rim of one of the tightly furled labia. The wild heat he’d been trying to deny surged. It felt like he was glowing, buzzing with heat…In Heat, like a Vulcan’s Pon Faar made real!

Maeraeco realised he’d been so absorbed with the coming of his maturity that, he’d forgotten Dael existed. A quick glance was all he needed to confirm that Dael was experiencing his own minute long adolescence. The other elf’s cock unravelling and then twisting tight like a fleshy barber’s pole; a sight so deeply erotic it was almost hypnotising.

Slipping a hand around Maeraeco’s neck, Dael took advantage of his distraction, pulling him close, kissing savagely, perfect teeth nibbling his lip, tongue slipping into Maeraeco’s half open mouth as he gasped. Fingernails that were pointed almost claws traced parallel trails of fire across his back.

Maeraeco felt himself relaxing, letting Dael lead, letting him scratch lines of fire across his back as if he were the canvas for Dael’s art. No longer clenched tight his cock unravelled, labia-petals curling away to lay flat against his crotch. Dael twisted a foot around his ankle tripping them. They hit the grass, wrestled playfully, Dael nipping gleefully at an exposed nipple. They rolled over again, this time Maeraeco found himself pressed down, wrists held tight.

“Oh!” he gasped, the tightly wound tip of Dael’s cock was just ever so slightly ‘inside’ him, pressing against a membrane. Virginity.

He, looked into Dael’s eyes, effortlessly reading the other elf’s soul. Dael was desperately holding himself in check, he wanted it, his role within the court was concubine, it was his nature, but Maeraeco was his Lord, and this would only happen if his Lord willed it.

“Do it,” Maeraeco hissed, not caring about anything other than the need to experience what came next.

There was a slight sting of pain as Dael’s cock slid into him, he shifted position slightly wrapping his legs around Dael’s ass, trying to widen his own opening, for what was coming. Dael’s cock twisted inside him, the labia-petals feeling like the fingers of a fist unclenching, stretching him wider. Something that felt like the smooth hardness of a cock with the width of a finger, shot forward, slithered its way in, a perfect fit, going deeper. It kept going, penetrating further and further into the cavity Maeraero had never imagined existed within him. Far deeper than any human cock could reach. Impossibly, it was even longer, going even deeper, a spike of pulsing warm flesh that only stopped impaling when it brushed against a clitoris-like nib that felt like it was positioned on the underside of Maeraeco’s belly button.

His mind exploded.

He thrashed his head from side to side, the pleasure was exquisite. A second later, Dael’s cock was gone, retracted, leaving an absence of heat a foot long in his core. Maeraeco inhaled ready to demand more, but the next thrust had already started, the long thin cock, moving slowly along the newly discovered path, now greased with precum and Maeraeco’s inner juices.

In a small analytical portion of his mind he realised that Dael’s hips weren’t thrusting, which must mean that the secret inner elf-cock was doing all the work. That tiny scrap of self-awareness fizzled to nothingness as on the fifteenth or fiftieth thrust of Dael’s inner cock as it convulsed like plucked guitar string; Dael was cumming.

A bulge of cum began slowly moving up the elf-cock’s duct, Maeraeco could feel it inside him, the climax had already technically happened, but the length of Dael’s cock meant Maeraeco had a full three seconds of anticipation before the cum squirted into the deepest spaces.

By the time Maeraeco could catch his breath, Dael’s inner-cock had fully withdrawn and his labia-petals had softened their grip inside of Maeraeco’s… vagina(?). ‘Typical male reaction’ he thought, feeling suddenly more aggressive. He pushed Dael off to the side and rolled on top, clenching his cock-parts tight so that an outer-phallus formed.

He understood now how Dael had felt earlier, the urge to rut like a satyrii, conquer and just take what he needed, were almost overpowering. With an effort pushed the instinctive urge to the back of his mind. If he understood how the magic worked, then each elf awoke knowing their role within his court. His magic was forcing Dael to do this.

“My body really want this,” he said through gritted teeth. “But I know the magic is fucking with our minds. I need permission, I owe you that.”

Dael smiled, spooning against him, leaning close to his ear and whispering “I am yours, Lord.”

Maeraeco took him, pressing his concubine into the soft grass, his outer cock breaking the seal and holding the way open, his inner cock experiencing the long journey into bliss. He’d been right about the bio-mechanics of his inner cock, it was coiled within some wet new space where his stomach had been. Before it ever touched Dael’s flowered nether lips, his cock had to slide the entire length of his own inner space, rubbing that little pleasure point under his bellybutton during the entire journey.

They’d said in human biology that a female orgasm is greater than the male, the way this was going down, it looked like the reverse was true for elves. The pleasure was almost at the level that he’d just hosted and he’d not even penetrated yet. It got better, slithering into a vagina that was a perfect fit for his cock. Given the elf-magic’s effect it was possible Dael’s inner spaces were custom made to precisely fit his needs, it certainly felt like it.

As he’d anticipated, his cock reached exactly as far as Dael’s… womb(?), if measured from its root his ‘elf-hood’ was probably as long as his leg. Instinctively he flexed the muscles at his… cockroot(?), sliding his member all the way back to its… pouch(?).

‘Let Dael see what it felt like to feel the black hole-like absence where a cock should be!’ he thought in playful vengeance.

It felt odd having spaces within himself for which no one had a name. The pouch-space that housed his inner cock when it wasn’t in use, for instance. That space was now deliciously ‘wet’ excreting pre-cum juices to lubricate his next long thrust.

Time seemed to be weird, he noticed. He’d started his conquest of Dael at around mid-morning and even allowing for each gloriously thrust taking five minutes, it shouldn’t be sunset yet. As the sun touched the horizon, it happened. He’d expected the slow climax to take a few seconds, in reality his mind was simply a passenger for nearly minute as his cock slithered deep and began pushing lava-thick cum toward its distant tip. He flowed, he burned in ecstasy.

* * *

If there had been a spectator, he would have seen the two elves starting to glow. At first it was as if they were the source of a saturating brightness that made the rest of the universe seem dull and increasingly monochrome, as the double orgasm ran its course, the brightness became harder to look upon, the surface details lost so that all that could be seen were sun-bright silhouettes entangled in coitus. The explosion of climax detonated in a ring of energy, like the special effect added to the Death Star explosion for the director’s cut, it sped outward ignoring the presence of mere matter.

It is said in the mythic realm that when an Elven High-lord reaches final climax, worlds can move. Naturally, rituals are performed and wards are placed to make sure nothing untoward happens. Unfortunately, or fortunately depending on your point of view, Maeraeco had no such self-discipline, no concept of what his intincts had unleashed, nor their consequence.

* * *

_ nr. Columbus, Ohio _

Lord Treddian was just putting the finishing touches to a pumataur, a human torso resized and fitted to a puma body permanently borrowed from the zoo, when he sensed it. Grabbing his warstaff, he struck it against the ground and summoned a dome-shaped of reality shield, just large enough to hold his party and the five hypnotised humans he’d intended to reshape.

The wave-front of orgasmic energy flash-burned across the landscape at the speed of light. Despite the protection, every lesser being gasped as their own orgasms were triggered in a pale echo of a High-Lord’s pleasure. The quantum-fractal wave of transformational energy travelled slower taking a non-linear route. In some places transformations were instantaneous and detailed, in others it was slow and subtle. Most dangerously some places merely held the unformed potential for change at a future date, like transformative IEDs waiting for an unwary act of lust.

“Brace yourselves,” warned Lord Treddian, setting aside his playful foppish persona and drawing upon his training as a future warlord.

The transformation hit hard and fast, stripping away the motel’s reality and replacing it with a dryad grove. The mythic species had a level of immunity, such energies were as natural as the wind to them. The five male humans had no such resistance. The humans were connected to local reality and local reality was now entirely dryad. No longer entranced by the High Lord’s will, they awoke slowly, looking down in amazement at rapidly growing breasts, becoming first female and then dryad, skin taking on a greener hue. Nearly mindless with lust they ran off giggling, hunting for a tree branch about 7” long at waist height. Providentially, the dryad grove’s male trees had many such stiff hard branches at exactly the right height. Nature provides.

In the distance where the city had been was a vast roiling cloud, not so much a mushroom cloud, more like a beautiful pink rose blooming for all to see.

“Oooh, looks like some elflord just got laid,” said Treddian smiling, slipping a hand under his belt and fingering his outer-cock. A wild ejaculation of transformative energy had been totally unexpected and was deeply compelling.

Like all the sons of the High Lords, Treddian’s life had been one of constraint and formality and expectation. When he mated, it would be at his father’s command, a matter of political alliance, probably to an elf lord many millennia his senior. What he’d just felt was like something from wild pre-historic times…in the days before civilisation, when a young elf would fuck his concubine and generate a display of transformational power to mark his territory, demonstrate his virility and attract a true-mate of equal status.

Intellectually, Treddian knew he was about to get into trouble, his dads were going to be furious, the court would lose face. But, hey, they’d understand eventually, he was reasonably sure he could talk his way out of it, particularly if he was successful. Setting self-justification aside, he turned his mind to the fading projection of an elf-cock that had occupied the sky, tasting the raw power of the young lord’s mating call. He simply had to meet the owner of that power… and…negotiate. He fully understood his reactions were being manipulated, but a mating call, was still a mating call and no one could blame him for acting on instinct. As for Uncle LeGlass’s fucking precious ring… screw it!

“Our mission is changed, the local Highlord has issued a formal invitation to mate,” Treddian announced. “In honour of the Lord of Earth’s virility, I declare a holiday. Everyone go fuck something and be back here by sunrise. We ride to court in the morning.”

* * *

_ Ground Zero: Dawn _

In the meadow that had been Ohio State University, the ex-students awoke, on beds of crumpled clothes that had fallen through their changing bodies. Without confusion or distress, they began walking eagerly toward the tree-palace that now existed where their High-Lord had mated with his elven concubine. They chattered amongst themselves, each of them instinctively knowing their role within the court and excitedly telling their fellows what they were to be. Those who knew they were to be guards lingered outside, eyeing the human city beyond the fringe of the University-realm with suspicion.

Beyond the court, the city of Columbus was still deciding what it was going to be and whether to notice or not...

TBC.