The Princess Transformed

Not much to say here...the tale continues, and I hope you are enjoying it!

Once again thanks to my wonderful editor moncrifelle.

*****

The Princess Daphnia, formerly of Erecia, stretched and yawned, coming slowly to wakefulness. Whatever the faults of the resistance, at least they had managed to procure a comfortable feather bed for her to sleep in. Though had become used to "roughing it" on the trip to Asdale, nevertheless she much preferred a soft mattress to the rough forest floor. The only thing she had to get used to was lying on her back. In her former life, she had enjoyed sleeping face down, but with her new prodigious and sensitive endowments, it was an impossibility.

Daphnia slid out of bed, washed herself in a nearby water basin, and threw on a simple cotton dress lying on a chair. Like most clothes, she saw it barely fit her—garments were simply not designed for the proportions of an elfslut. At least this way she was halfway decently clothed and would not accidentally arouse anyone she happened to pass by . . . at least, not that much.

Wearing the dress did remind her of her former travelling companion though, the boy named Tivin. She sighed a little as she remembered his gentle ways and touch, and how despite his seeming docility, he could be quite the beast in bed. She wondered how he was doing. She had been so caught in the rush of events since she arrived at Asdale he hadn't crossed her mind until now. She would have to remember to ask the resistance about him.

Opening the door to her room, Daphnia made her way to the mess hall where a simple repast of bread and cheese awaited her. She ate quietly, observing the bustle of activity around her.

Preparations were finally being made for the assault on the castle. Arrows were being fletched, supplies readied, and she could hear the distant clangor of forging armor. She had never managed or defended against a siege in her time as the princess of Erecia—that was Perthias's department, but she knew enough about warfare to know that they were in for a tough battle.

Speaking of which, neither her brother nor mother were anywhere to be found. She supposed that they had been tasked with different duties by the hooded figures. No matter. They each had their part to play, and she was determined to play hers well.

If what Tyzhe had said during the war council was true, she would be the main participant in a ritual of some sort of which she was curious, despite herself. She already knew that the resistance boasted powerful spellcasters, but ritual sorcery was a whole other field of magic, one that she knew little about. But if it was a chance to restore her missing powers, or strike a blow at the usurper, then it was something that she had the utmost interest in.

She finished her breakfast, licked her lips daintily (another advantage of being an elfslut . . . no table manners to observe!) and walked into the main hall where another war council was being held. Instead of her brother and mother being present, there were not one, but three hooded figures waiting for her.

"Princess Daphnia. We have been expecting you."

Of course they had. Nothing could get through their all-seeing gaze, or so it seemed.

She met their gazes with a curt nod. Her earlier suspicions had been confirmed—there wasn't just one hooded figure in the resistance. Such a large and concerted effort had to have more than one overseer, and it seemed she was right.

The one to her immediate right—not Tyzhe, he had a deeper voice—spoke first.

"It seems that the spell that Rampillion has worked on you is more complex than we had thought. It is tied to your physical form, but it also affects your astral energies to some degree. We are pressed for time, and as such will not explain at length what we have discovered. But in short, all your magical powers are intact, you are just not able to use them."

Daphnia rolled her eyes at the figure's summation. "What exactly is the point then? This is the same as not having them in the first place!"

The figure held up a bony finger. "Patience, your Highness. I am not quite done."

Daphnia gestured for him to continue, and he/she/it did.

"Do remember that you were able to see the sigils we left for you that guided you out of the castle dungeons and to here. That means that you are still attuned to the mana flow. That can work to our advantage."

Daphnia cut in once again. "Spare me the mysteries. Where does this leave us? Are you able to reverse the spell? Or give me my powers back?"

The figures paused at her questions, and Daphnia got the distinct impression that they were not unwilling, but rather unable to answer. You never could tell with them with the hoods and robes they wore, which was probably precisely why they wore them.

The figure to the left responded this time. "As you say, your Highness, we shall cut to the chase. We are afraid that the main spell is tied to Rampillion himself. It is impossible to reverse unless he dies."

Daphnia nodded grimly at this news. She was half-expecting it, but to hear it delivered so lightly was still somewhat of a blow. It was not exactly uncommon practice among mages to link their life-force to any permanent spells they had cast as an extra safeguard against tampering. Whatever Rampillion was, he was no amateur spellcaster, nor did it not seem like he was one to take chances.

"We have, however, come up with a plan. The ritual that we spoke of earlier is simple enough. You still possess the ability to perceive, amplify, and act as a conduit for magical energy. If we are able to generate enough, you will aid us in redirecting it to our mages when the assault takes place. They will be able to draw on a vast reserve of mana, far more than what a single mage, no matter how mighty, will be able to store."

So that was it. She was to be a mana battery of sorts. She had heard of similar magics before. While they were not her specialty, the principle behind them was simple enough. Mana was generated from a source, sent towards a conduit and amplification source—in this case, her—and then redirected towards those who would use the magical energy to cast spells. Why they needed a ritual now became clear. More than one mage would be needed to handle the amount of energy that they seemed to be discussing.

Wait. . . energy generation? Channeling? How were they exactly planning to do these things? Once again the figures had left out key details. Daphnia was no fool or apprentice mage herself, and she had derived the answer from what had been discussed so far. Half of her dreaded the answer, as well as anticipated it. Nevertheless, she felt she had to ask, and ask she did.

"How do you plan to generate this energy? And channel it?"

This time it was Tyzhe who replied with a clear note of sarcasm.

"Come now, Princess. Do we have to spell it out for you?"

She gave each of them a sharp stare, but in the end sighed slightly and raised her hands up in defeat. "No, you do not. I guessed your intent when you told me that the spell was tied to my physical form. There are few other ways to generate so much energy on short notice. I am to be the central participant in an orgy, which will allow me to use the men's vigor, vitality and seed to empower your mages when we attack the castle. Am I correct?"

Daphnia detected more than a hint of a smile in Tyzhe's reply. "You are completely right, your Highness. We will supply you with the incantations you will need to repeat during the . . . act so that your body can channel the magic more effectively. We will leave the rest up to you."

She pursed her lips in irritation, but reined in her anger and decided against a sharp retort. The assault would start soon, and it would do no good for her to be arguing against her erstwhile allies, no matter how rude they seemed to be. Her time as an elfslut had taught her the value of pragmatism, and this was not the time to raise objections to what was a pre-eminently rational course of action.

It wasn't all that bad, she reasoned. She would finally have a chance to strike back against the hated usurper. She would be aiding the troops in their attack on the castle. It would be a chance to do something besides sit around in the resistance base all day. She had always preferred taking action to waiting for it to come to her.

And besides . . . she did so love getting fucked.

***

The ritual itself would take place on a large stone pedestal, easily the size of three of the beds on which she had spent the night on. Daphnia eyed it critically and ruefully. She much preferred to couple on beds, but she guessed that it would be hard to imbue the line with the necessary runes for the ritual to succeed. Stone it would have to be. Not that she would mind once she got a cock (or two, or three) in her. Besides which, her body had enough padding to make stone not seem that uncomfortable, especially when she got into the swing of things.

But first things first. She spent a few minutes in meditation, clearing her mind of all thoughts besides that of the task ahead. It was an altogether different experience from when she had tried, and failed, to concentrate in the dungeons beneath the castle when she had first been transformed. There she was trying to achieve a sense of peace and dispassion which had met in complete and utter failure. Here she was thinking of nothing except fucking, and it was working.

She gasped and sighed in heated need as lust rose in her loins like a savage beast. She had never dared to give full rein to her desires before, except maybe once, on the raping bench, but then she had shackles of steel to restrain her. This time the only bindings were those that would be in her mind. For the ritual to succeed, she would have to control it her desire, bring it to heel, as well as exult in it—a fine balance to be sure. All that while maintaining the mental focus needed to chant the incantations mentally and for the spell to work its way through her.

She was doubtful of their chances, but this was no time for uncertainty. They would have only one chance, and they would have to make it count. The element of surprise was with that—Rampillion did not seem to know there was a resistance—but precious little else, unless her allies have even more tricks up their sleeves.

Even through her lust-filled trance, Daphnia had to chuckle a bit at the situation she found herself in. Fucking to regain her kingdom. Who would have thought?

Her mental preparations complete, the princess stood, going through a series of limbering exercises. She had to prepare the body and not just the mind. Once she was done stretching she was not surprised to see clear fluid already beginning to leak from between her legs. Gods, she was so horny, but at least she would not have to wait long.

The doors to the ritual chamber swung open, and men began to stream in. She estimated that there were at least fifty of them. Good. She would need at least that many to satisfy her, to say nothing of the demands of the ritual. The combined magical energy would be used to shatter Rampillion's shields, so it would be better to have more rather than less.

As for the men themselves, they were a motley bunch—slaves, slavers, soldiers and assorted castle staff. Some were thin, some thick, some tall, some short. They came in all shapes and sizes. But Daphnia had never been one to discriminate as either a princess or an elfslut. She didn't quite care who or what they were. It was enough to know that they all had cocks and knew how to use them.

She felt the last lingering vestiges of her old self fight a losing battle within her subconscious. Was she really contemplating coupling with an entire horde of men, none of whom she even knew? She knew the answer before she even asked the question—yes. The only regret was that there were no women in attendance. She loved cock, but she missed pussy as well. She supposed that the ritual needed more male energy than female. Sex magic was not her specialty, and the rising tide of lust within her was eroding what rationality she still possessed.

Daphnia found herself licking her lips absently. She was going to enjoy this.

As she surveyed her partners, she saw most of them already beginning to get erect. It seemed they all knew what they were here for, and most of them sported huge grins on their faces. She would have been mildly annoyed at their presumption if she hadn't been aroused by their hardening shafts. Those were varied as the men themselves—some long, some short, some curved, some straight. It didn't really matter to her as long as they were going to plunge themselves into her naked body and ravish her until she cried for mercy.

But first things first. It wasn't just an orgy they were planning. There was the strategic aspect of it as well. Daphnia concentrated and felt the mana flow around her, twisting and writhing like a living beast. The runes on the pedestal began to glow a deep blue, and she let her consciousness link itself to the sigils, establishing a bond that would enable them to store the vast amount of energy that would be generated. The transformed princess took a deep breath, then another. Yes, it was there. Her powers had been shorn from her, but enough remained so that she could still manifest a connection to the astral plane. With every breath she felt the swell and surge of mana pulse within her, growing stronger and fuller. She knew that when the time came that she would be able to control it, manipulate it, and bend it to her will.

Now it was time to fuck.

She walked over to the stone pedestal, swaying her hips and casting come-hither glances at her soon-to-be lovers. This all reminded her of her first days as an elfslut, when she had meditated futilely and then been taken to the raping bench. But this was different. This time she was in complete and total control of herself, choosing to fuck instead of be fucked. And the end result of this would be that she would hopefully have her revenge on the person that had gotten her into this situation in the first place. She would have been in stitches at the irony if she hadn't been so horny.

Daphnia leapt up and arranged herself on the dais, spreading her legs in a gesture of complete wanton abandon. Amazingly enough, none of the men had even started forward. She supposed that the resistance had warned all of them against starting the ritual prematurely. Nice of them. She closed her eyes, testing the mana once more. Yes, it was there, waiting for her. Time to begin her work in earnest.

She spread her legs even wider (ah, the benefits of an elfslut body!) smiled and gestured to the nearest. She shot him a lascivious look, wetting her lips, and he dove into her with all the fury and frenzy of a man possessed. He must have been seriously pent-up, because he came into her in scant seconds. She was a little disappointed at his lack of staying power, but wasn't too upset about it. After all, there were plenty more where he came from.

The second man proved to have a little more endurance. He managed at least several strokes into her slick tunnel before he, too, came. The third was much the same as the first—a quick shot, but the fourth was more to her liking. He added a little twist to his hips as he bottomed out from each thrust, so that his shaft brushed against her clitoris just so. She cooed her appreciation into his ear as he too spent himself into her.

By now her slit was almost overwhelming wet with juices now. Her elfslut body produced copious lubrication. So, it was easy for her seventh (or ninth? she was losing count) lover to slip his hard shaft into her and begin pumping. With each thrust their combined juices squirted out of her well-fucked pussy, sending squelching noises and the hard slap of flesh on flesh echoing around the chamber.

Then the men began to get creative. She was basking in the afterglow of another orgasm when she gasped at the sensation of a tongue assaulting her privates. Daphnia had rarely been eaten out before. Men seemed to prefer using their cocks rather than their mouths. But in her travels, she had learnt to appreciate the pleasure that could only be found at the end of an agile tongue. She bucked and writhed and squirmed, and then almost leapt off the dais as two other mouths fastened themselves to her diamond-hard nipples. It appeared that the men were given as good as they were getting. The princess shuddered into one orgasm after another as man after man played her like an instrument.

Amidst all this fucking, Daphnia retained the presence of mind to continue her spellcasting. The mana wove around and through her, each orgasm only serving to fuel its steady growth. If she was less preoccupied (and horny) Daphnia would have been amazed at the beauty of the swirling colors around her. Rampillion had stripped away her powers, but not her gift of astral sight, and even as the orgy continued, Daphnia was awestruck at the brilliant crimson, emerald green, and lambent cyan shades around her.

But she needed more. More mana, as well as more fucking. They would need more magical energy to shatter the usurper's shields, and she would need much, MUCH more attention before she was satisfied. So as her latest orgasm came to an end, Daphnia took it onto herself to give her audience a show. Gently pushing aside the hungry mouths lapping at her body, she slid off the now-slick dais with a wicked smile on her face. The transformed princess realized that more than enjoying being horny, she also enjoyed showing herself off. What was the point of having such an oversexed body if she didn't use it?

She gave herself to the moment, tossing her head of golden hair and spreading her legs so wide that all the spending of the men from before began to dribble from her open cleft. She swayed saucily from side to side in a mock dance - so different from the slow, deliberate steps she had learnt at court, and then spun around to shake her firm ass in their faces. When all eyes were firmly locked on her, she hefted each giant breast to her lips and sucked on each erect nipple in turn, taking care to meet the gaze of each man who gazed in lust at her.

And when that was done, she began fingering herself, teasing her most private of places with delicate golden fingers. She then moved on to palming her tits with one hand and finger fucking herself with the other, closing her eyes and gasping at the dual sensations flooding through her. Daphnia had also learned that some men were almost as turned on by her moans and cries as much as they were by her massive breasts and leaking pussy, and so she made sure to let her voice ring out clearly throughout the confines of the chamber.

Finally, she leapt back onto the dais, rolling around and over the cold stone pedestal. It was as cold as the men's cocks were hot, and Daphnia found the contrast sending shivers of delight down her spine. But she wasn't yet done, far from it. She ran her hands down each inch of her overly-voluptuous body, caressing each curve with even more care than her previous lovers had.

The best was yet to come though, and as the nearest man started forward, she shook her head and wagged her finger in the universal gesture for 'wait'. Daphnia smiled at the parade of erect cocks in front of her—some of them so hard that fluid was already beginning to dribble from their tips—and got down on all fours. She waved her rounded ass in their general direction, and then proceeded to roll on the floor, spreading her legs as wide as they would go (her elfslut body was VERY limber) giving her rapt audience a view of her most private of parts. She was so wet that she was sure that she was making a puddle on the floor, but she was more than past caring.

It was too much for the men to take. Halfway through her impromptu show, one of the slaves rushed at her and with a roar impaled her with a single deep thrust. Daphnia had barely enough time to gasp in shock when another came up in front of her and thrust his erect cock into her open mouth. They bucked and heaved together for a time, and then each came in turn, erupting into each orifice almost simultaneously.