The Queen Transformed

In this chapter . . . revelations! Finally, the plot threads all come together in time for the final act. At least I hope they do. I've tried not to leave any loose ends hanging, and I hope that you like the way I tied them all up.

And as always, thanks to my wonderful editor moncrifelle for the hard work.

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Gladia stretched and yawned as she woke. She couldn't remember feeling so rested in ages. It had been one thing after another—escaping from the castle, moving to Asdale, becoming reunited with her family, and then having to recruit Malgos to the resistance's cause. She had barely had any time to catch her breath, and she now relished in full the wonderful feeling that only came with a good night's rest.

Speaking of which, the Mad Mage was lying next to her, snoring fit to wake the dead. Upon arriving at headquarters, he had begun barking orders and ordering the staff about—actions which didn't exactly make him popular among the resistance forces, but they complied duly. Upon getting everything in order—which to him meant a room, a feather bed and a feast fit for a king—he had proceeded to eat his fill and then fuck Gladia upon said bed until he fell asleep. Once again, the queen was thoroughly unsatisfied with his performance. She had never had to fake so many orgasms in her life! But she left him slumbering and none the wiser. At the very least she got a good meal and a night's rest out of it.

So now what was she to do? Malgos had been sated and feted, and unlike her children, she was no mage or warrior. She had done her part in bringing Malgos to their cause, and his abilities had better be worth the time and effort she spent in doing so! Now there was nothing for her to do but wait.

No, that wasn't entirely true. Not nothing. There were things that she still wanted to know. And now, the eve of the battle, it was a good a time as any to learn what they were. She had tried on her trek up the hill to the Mad Mage's castle to piece together the disparate threads of what information she had, and failed. No, far better to simply ask the resistance directly. Suiting action to word, Gladia slipped out of bed and walked into the council hall.

It proved an easy enough task to find one of the hooded figures. Preparations for the upcoming siege were in full swing, with arrows being fletched and armor battered in shape everywhere, but sure enough Tyzhe was flitting to and fro, supervising the work being done. She fixed him with an icy stare and motioned him (it? she?) to the side.

For once, the figure simply nodded and acceded to her request. No equivocations, explanations or obfuscatory comments. Things must be serious indeed to warrant such a response.

Gladia spoke plainly. "Whoever, or whatever you are, this has gone on far enough. If we are to risk life and limb for you, we deserve some answers about the resistance—about why you are doing this, and about the Crimson Mage."

The figure nodded once more, and drew back it's hood to reveal . . .

The face of an elfslut.

The queen couldn't help but take a step backwards in shock. The female (very female!) figure standing in front of her looked like her daughter, but there were certain key differences. Where Daphnia's skin was golden, the formerly hooded figure's skin was an emerald green, and where the princess had long hair, this one had short. Besides though, there was no mistaking the tapered ears, almond shaped eyes, and preternaturally beautiful facial features that all elfsluts had. The robes were too long to tell, but in all probability what they concealed was the ultra-voluptuous body of a transformed woman.

The figure, or the elfslut, rather, spoke and this time it was in a high, almost bell-like tone of voice. It seemed that they had been using magic to mask their voices before. Were all of them elfsluts as well? But she put her questions aside and focused on the sound of Tyzhe's voice.

"We know not if you have guessed, Your Highness, but the resistance as you know it is comprised of transformees. Yes, we are all like you, or your son, or daughter—victims of transformation magic, and our story is a long one.

"Rampillion did not start his reign of terror with Erecia. No, he was active a long, long time ago, long before you were born.

"The story does not start with him alone. Rampillion's teacher was a mage called Barglais, and it was he who first created the transformation magic that has wreaked so much havoc in your life and ours. He was an alchemist, not a mage, and his potions were much in demand for reasons that you can imagine."

Here, Gladia started in shock, and Tyzhe nodding knowingly. "Yes, you guess correctly. The potion that transformed you was one of his. It had probably been procured many years before you were even born, in the case of emergency. I would say that it has served its purpose well enough.

"But after decades of willful transformation of man, woman and beast alike, Barglais grew tired. He wished to retire, and in choosing to do so he passed on his knowledge to his apprentice—the man you know as Rampillion. The self-styled Crimson Mage decided to forego potions and work with more . . . direct methods. He toppled kingdom after kingdom, enslaving others for the sheer joy of it. For a long time, no one dares oppose him, until the resistance was formed.

"All of us who wear these hoods are actually victims of Rampillion's magic. Male or female, we managed to find others like us while living our cursed existence. Powerful though he is, Rampillion is also careless, or perhaps he thinks himself so mighty that his victims are powerless before him. That is where we will prove him wrong.

"One-by-one we rallied ourselves, finding like minds and a similar cause. We had been warriors, mages, archers, politicians, and even now as slaves and elfsluts, we retained much of our former abilities. We used our bodies to earn coin and build connections where we could, and slowly and quietly gathered strength for the coming storm. It took years—decades—but eventually we had mages, swords and slaves of our own at our command.

"Why Erecia, you ask? It was mainly the luck of the draw. We had planned to make our move sooner or later, but when Rampillion struck again we decided we had waited long enough. You and your children have proven essential to our efforts, and for that we thank you. Your daughter was instrumental in gathering intelligence, and her magical knowledge helpful beyond measure. Your son has agreed to lead our charge, and you have brought us the arcane might we need to spearhead it. Our eternal gratitude is yours.

"And there you have it, Your Highness. The answers that you sought." The elfslut smiled and spread her hands wide. "Do they satisfy you? Are you still with us?"

Gladia took a while to let it all sink in. The true shape of the resistance was transformed slaves just like her and her children who had been waging a shadow war for a long time, seeking to topple the Crimson Mage and his evil deeds. It was a lot to take it at once, but it did explain almost everything that she had once wondered about.

The Queen of Erecia looked Tyzhe in her eyes and gave a firm and decisive nod. "Yes, I am. We must stop that monster by all means necessary."

"Then it is to war we go, but first I think there is something else that we should take care of, no?"

Gladia blinked in confusion. What could Tyzhe mean? She could not help with the war preparations, or anything martial, but the elfslut was looking at her knowingly, with a crooked smile playing about her features. Then without warning she reached out with a long finger and tweaked one pierced nipple.

The queen let out a moan and almost sank to her knees. Gods, how had Tyzhe known? Malgos hadn't satisfied her one whit, and she supposed it showed. Still, how dare they presume to touch a queen's body (no matter how transformed) like that? She was about to give the elfslut a piece of her mind when she spoke first.

"Forgive me, Your Highness, I just couldn't resist. You have such beautiful nipples, and breasts too! And yes, I do know how much you need to fuck. After all, I am subject to many of the same urges that you are." Tyzhe's voice turned playful, almost lascivious. "What do you suppose we do after all those boring meetings? We tend to each other, as I am about to do to you."

What could she mean by . . . any words or actions that Gladia was thinking of taking were forestalled by Tyzhe's mouth on hers. The elfslut kissed her deeply and thoroughly, slipping an agile tongue into her mouth and sucking on her lips like they were succulent fruit. Gladia could not and did not want to resist her advances. While she preferred men, she had some dalliances with women in her time as a slave, and whatever resistance she had was slowly being eroded by Tyzhe's expert ministrations. She supposed the elfslut had had plenty of practice.

When the kiss finally broke, Gladia was left panting in desire, hair mussed and nipples erect, but Tyzhe seemed none the worse for her. In fact, she looked positively energized. The queen had a hard time reconciling her memories of the secretive, hooded figure in front of her with the present reality of the eager, beguiling elfslut who was even now shooting her a naughty look, but she was beginning to acclimatize herself to it. Also, being horny enough to fuck a goat helped.

But it seemed that Tyzhe would save her from that unlikely and unfortunate fate. She took the queen's hand in hers and led her to a chamber not far from the main halls where a large bed awaited them. Then she shrugged off her cloak to reveal her enhanced form in all its voluptuous glory, and beckoned the queen to join her.

Gladia took a moment to take in the sights (such as they were). Yes, Tyzhe was every inch the elfslut. High set, massive breasts only slightly smaller than Gladia's own, slim, curving hips, a flat stomach, and a behind so pert and full as to drive men (and women!) wild. Then there were the long, tapered ears and short silver hair, and the liquid eyes filled with naked lust.

The queen sighed and lowered herself onto the bed. She had really been intending to find a male slave to slake her unnatural thirsts, but any port in a storm . . . and a part of her was intrigued at how Tyzhe would perform in bed. The fire in her loins had quickened as she looked at the elfslut's naked form and when she remembered their recent kiss.

She didn't have long to wait. Tyzhe practically pounced upon her and enfolded her in her slim arms. Both queen and elfslut moaned in unison as their breasts mashed against each other. They were so big that it was actually impossible for them to actually hug. They had to content themselves with deep kisses and touches. Tyzhe took the lead, running her hands over every inch of the queen's body, tugging at her pierced nipples and slipping a finger into her hungry slit until she moaned for more.

Which she promptly delivered. Tyzhe was eager but no tease, which Gladia discovered to her delight as the elfslut brought her tongue to bear on her other mouth. If she thought that she was skilled at kissing, it was nothing compared to how she licked pussy. Her tongue darted in and out of her inner folds like a leaping fish, and she only paused in her attentions to suck on the pink pearl of the queen's clitoris. Before long Gladia's back was arching in orgasm, but Tyzhe was relentless—licking and sucking until the queen had come not once or twice, but three times. And when she had finally deigned to stop, Gladia shot her an accusing look, but all Tyzhe did was give her another naughty, cum-drenched grin.

It was her turn, then. Never let it be said that the Queen of Erecia (in whatever form) was a taker but not a giver. Her choice of targets were breasts instead of pussy, though. They hung like overripe fruits from the elfslut's slender chest, with nipples topping them like cherries on a pudding. Gladia couldn't wait to taste them, and so she did. This time it was Tyzhe who writhed underneath her in pleasure. She palmed her plush behind and thrust a finger into the elfslut's dripping snatch for good measure. Gladia used mouth, tongue and fingers to good effect, wringing orgasm after orgasm from her lover's body until she was a panting mess in front of her. Now it was Gladia's turn to give her a superior wink. Turnabout was fair play.

But as nice as it had been to fuck (and be fucked by) Tyzhe, something was still missing. Pussy was all well and good, but the queen longed to have a thick cock inside her, pumping away in the way that only a good, long, nice, hard penis could. She rocked back on her heels and sighed. A male slave or two would be the perfect way to end the evening.

As if on cue, the doors of the room opened to reveal two smiling men. Tyzhe bounced up from the bed upon seeing them.

"Yes, these are the other figures you saw earlier. They look rather different now, don't they? Those hoods are just so boring."

Gladia had to agree. Even in her time in the slave pens, she didn't remember seeing such detectable specimens of manhood. They were tall, burly and seemingly sculpted of muscle—rough-hewn and well cut. Every inch the male counterparts to her and Tyzhe.

Gladia let her gaze roam down their broad shoulders, wide chests and then on to the fun bits . . .their cocks! They were long, thick and hard, just the way she liked them. Even un-erect they were large enough to make her almost start to drool.

"We're going to have such fun together!"

The elfslut was certainly a lot more enthusiastic without her clothes on, Gladia observed dryly. Tyzhe motioned to the men to join them on the bed, and they did so.

They started off slow—touching, licking and kissing, but soon upped the ante by spreading Gladia's legs and beginning to plow her thoroughly and well. The queen could now appreciate the truth of Tyzhe's story. Her two new male lovers were far more experienced than any she had had before. They played her like an instrument, seeming to know exactly where to touch and stroke in order to elicit the greatest response. In no time at all she was heaving in the throes of another orgasm, and then another.

Gladia had had many varied sexual experiences in her brief time as a slave, but it was another thing entirely to be taken from behind roughly as Tyzhe kissed her, even as the elfslut herself was being fucked. Each heave, shake and quiver of their bodies sent sympathetic vibrations through all of them. It was like fucking four people at once. Like her many lovers before her, they seemed to be fascinated with the silver rings through her breasts, flicking and pulling at them until she was all but moaning in desire. She would have told them to stop except that it just felt so good!

She tried to mount a counteroffensive of her own—teasing them with her own not-inconsiderable assets, and trying to push Tyzhe down on the bed again. But they would have none of it, grasping and palming her lush form until she was quivering in need. She was out of her element, and it showed, until she simply let herself sit back and have the three of them ravish her. And ravish her they did—taking her from in front, behind and in every position conceivable—and some not.

At last they were spent, and they collapsed in a quivering, satisfied mess. Gladia could not recall ever feeling more replete than how she felt at the moment. Nor as tired, either. Every inch of her had been well-stretched, and how she ached, but it was a good, clean pain, one that revitalized instead of exhausted.

She looked up briefly to see her other lovers in much the same state. Tyzhe was snoring gently, and the two other male slaves were out cold beside her. How were they ever going to wage a war in such a condition? Perhaps the resistance members had powers unknown to her. Or maybe they would just wake up in time. After all there were few things more relaxing than a good tumble in the hay and then a nap.

Whatever the case, it was out of her hands. Gladia yawned hugely and let herself sink into the warm embrace of both sleep and her lovers. She had to trust that her children would be ok, and that the day would be won. She had done all she could, which in her case was to have great sex with the people leading the charge so that they would be well rested when the day came. Oh well, assistance came in strange ways.

And so thinking, the queen of Erecia drifted off into slumber.