Chapter 4: The Transformation's Dawn
Morning breaks over Dravenmoore with a gray dawn. King Theodoric Moore leads the envoy to Alaric's chamber. The heavy oak door creaks open, revealing Alaric sprawled across a bed of fur and linen, sheets tangled around his lean frame. Dim light filters through the arched window. The envoy returns to his room. An eagle swoops in, talons clutching parchment sealed with the news of the Orrken royals' demise, the message scrawled in haste. The envoy's eyes narrow, doubting the Dravenmoore royals, but the impossible timing, which no raven or rider could span the distance so fast, prompts the envoy to leave urgently without Alaric.
Lysandra and Theodoric rouse Alaric, their voices sharp. "Why didn't you escape, my son?" He yawns, eyes heavy with sated exhaustion. "I resolved it, Father. No need to live under fear." They both thought that it was a frightened child's talk.
Later, Alaric shuffles to the dining hall, his faded green robe dragging across the floor. The hall buzzes with vassals and servants, the air thick with roasting meat and yeast, ripe peaches bursting with nectar, and dark wines. Alaric's been eating nonstop, his hunger with no end drawing glances from serving girls. For two days, he devours, heads straight to sleep, a primal hunger igniting his frame. Each bite, his dick stirring beneath the table, tenting his robe as his body reacted since his voyeurism at Urgok's orgy. Every night, furs cradling him as his muscles swell, contours hardening into raw splendor, his dick thickening with each breath, a transformation woven in the dark.
The rumors of Alaric's transformation and unusual behavior reach Lysandra's ears. She goes to his chamber on the third night. A single candle casts a golden glow over Alaric, sprawled beneath the furs, his frail form gone. Now with broad shoulders rolling with muscle and a chiseled chest heaving, she's relieved her timid boy has finally recovered. Her eyes shift as she places the candle she brought on the table. A snake-like figure beneath Alaric's sheets--she slowly takes a peek inside, revealing a massive dick tenting the sheet, thick and veined, precum beading at the tip, darkening the linen. Her breath catches.
She whispers, "My sweet son, what a marvel you've become," her voice sultry as she slides the sheet down, revealing his sculpted pecs, her fingers grazing his hot skin. She lingers at his dick, brushing it with a featherlight touch. It twitches, hot and alive, a beast pulsing under her fingers. She thought to herself, "Gods, this cock, such power." Gripping it fully, her hand wrapping around its girth, marveling at its thickness, veins throbbing against her palm, precum slicking her skin as she strokes slow, her own tits tingling, her pussy dripping beneath her gown. She imagines him waking, flipping her onto the bed, fucking her raw with that monstrous dick, her screams echoing as he fills her, but she pulls back, flushed and trembling, departing with a moaning voice, "Rest well, my sweet prince."
Theodoric finds Alaric the next day, marveling at his transformation. "The gods have blessed you, son. Their favor shines upon you," he says, his broad shoulder and firm muscle unyielding beneath his grip. "Come hunt with me, let's train you." They ride out to the forest, a tangle of oaks and brambles, where they train and hunt throughout the day. By a crackling fire that night, flames casting a golden glow, they both prepare meat they hunted. Theodoric, gazing into the embers, confesses, "You know your uncle, son. His hand, I planned it; I sent a knight to cut Roderic's hand, fearing his strength would eclipse mine to claim the throne. That's why you have grown as weak. I thought it was his curse that weakened my firstborn. I bore that guilt. Now I'm relieved."
"One day you might dominate this kingdom, son," Theodoric continues. Alaric nods. They both go to sleep in the tents while the knights guard. That night, Alaric dreams of the scene he witnessed in Urgok's chamber, his father's words resonating, "One day you might dominate this kingdom, son," as he pictures Lysandra moaning under him, "Alaric, my king." Alaric wakes up frustrated with his sinful thoughts and stays up the whole night.
Meanwhile, Cedric, 21, lies sleepless in his canopied bed, his dick throbbing. He imagines the moment he witnessed in the bath, Lysandra's bath haunting him, as he recalls her tits glistening, her lips brushing his, her pussy a wet promise. His dick aches, rigid and thick, demanding release, and he slips barefoot through secret tunnels only known to the royal family that stretch to all rooms and places, their damp walls cool as they wind through the castle's heart. He finds a peephole by the king's chamber and presses his eye to it, his breath hitching as the scene unfolds.
Lysandra's on all fours atop a bed of pelts and hides, her golden hair wildly loose with sweat, her massive tits swaying, nipples grazing the furs, her ass high and glistening with sweat, her pussy dripping as his father fucks her from behind. His thrusts deep and relentless, his hands yanking her hair, arching her back as she moans, a wild wail echoing off the stone. Her juices soak the furs, her pussy clenching tight as she cums, her scream piercing, "Yes, harder, take me!" He spanks her ass red, the slaps echoing in Cedric's ears. His own heart beats loudly. "You crave this, don't you, my queen? Say it!" She gasps, "Yes, your strength consumes me, so much fiercer, filling my pussy. Yess, fill me!" Cedric's dick throbs painfully, precum leaking as he strokes himself through his shift, imagining himself pounding her.
His voice is a low growl, "What if your sons saw you now, Lysandra, sprawled and panting, fucked raw like this? Cedric and Alaric, would you let them watch as you bend over this bed, my vigor stretching you wide?" She moans, her tits bouncing with each thrust, "Oh gods, yes, I'd let them watch while you claim me, drowning my holes with your seed!" He chuckles, "Show me how you moan in front of them." Lysandra moans loudly, piercing Cedric through the hidden tunnel, "Yes, ruin me." She cries out, "Fuck me senseless, your cock owns me!" Cedric's hand moves faster, his balls tightening, the taboo words fueling his lust, the view of his mother's pussy stretched, her screams a song, her body a feast.
His father's hands shift, gripping her hips harder, his thrusts brutal. "I'm better than Theodoric. His limp dick can't reach where I reach, can it? Tell me I fuck you like a king should!" Lysandra wails, "Yes, Roderic, you're the man compared to him, your cock's a weapon, filling me, breaking me. Ufff, fuck me harder!" Cedric freezes, his dick pulsing as shock slams him. It's Roderic, his uncle, his slit-only hand spanking her, his dick plunging deep as he cums, seed flooding her, dripping down her thighs to stain the furs, her pussy pulsing as she cums again, her screams shaking the chamber, "Roderic, yes, fill me, own me!" Cedric stumbles back through the tunnels, bare feet slapping stone, his breath ragged as he reaches his room, slamming the door. He rips off his shift, stroking his dick hard and fast, precum slicking his hand as he recalls what he witnessed--Lysandra beneath Roderic, her pussy clenching his cock. He groans, muffled into the pillow, his body trembling with rage and lust.
Chapter 5: The Training Room's Duel and Tangled Lust
Lysandra seeks Cedric, 21, in the training room, a cavernous chamber of stone beneath Dravenmoore's keep. He trains alone, shirtless, his body gleaming under torchlight, muscles rippling as he swings a longsword, outlining the thick bulge of his dick, pulsing with each move, a magnet for the eye. She steps inside, her velvet gown hugging her full tits, nipples pressing through, her golden hair tumbling loose.
"Training alone, my son? Is your father yet to return from his hunt?" her voice a sultry thread weaving through the chamber, her eyes drinking his vigor, her pussy tingling as she glides closer. He pauses, wiping sweat from his brow, his presence flooding her senses like a primal wine. "Did you not know, Mother? I think last night I heard you both talking in the chamber while I crossed," he counters, thinking of Roderic's betrayal, eyes locking with hers, a storm of lust brewing. She smiles wickedly. "No, sweet boy, I don't remember any talking. I was very tired," her tongue wetting her lips, her gaze dropping to his dick's bulge, her pussy clenching as she imagines it freed, breathing the air.
She grabs a wooden sword, its oak hilt worn smooth, and takes a stance, skirts swaying, tits bouncing subtly, fabric straining as she arches, eyes dancing with mischief. "Fight me. Let Mother see your training," she teases, her stance wide, thighs parting beneath the gown, air cooling her damp skin. Cedric grins, expecting an easy win, his wooden blade flashing. He lunges, but she's deft, a warrior queen, her blade clashing with his, a sharp crack echoing, her hips brushing his, her scent jasmine and musk driving him wild. They duel, a dance of lust and steel, her voice weaving a sultry tapestry: "Thrust harder, Cedric. Pierce me deep," she says, taunting both him and his desires. "My son, bring me to my knees with that vigor." She throws lusty remarks. "Let's see, son. Does yours outlast your father's faltering strength?" Her dripping thighs, aching pussy make her remarks more vulgar. "You think you can take me, boy? I've seen large, powerful swordmasters. Can you dominate above them all?" "Try pushing me against this wall till I scream your name for mercy?" Her tits bounce, nipples peaking, her breath hot on his neck. "Show me all that strength. Use your body," her pussy dripping beneath her skirts, soaking the fabric as she imagines him ripping her gown, his dick plunging into her, fucking her raw, her screams shaking the stone.
