The Gift Ch. 03

Around them, the wolves were standing. Sated for the moment. The brother stood and the sister turned, lapping at his cock. Cleaning him before standing next to him. Fur was slowly spreading along her stomach, tickling her small teats and making her twist her thighs with renewed need.

Agnes stood in front to gather their attention. They followed her when she ran and they filled the hall and castle, spreading out to find more people. A small group of them arrived at the front gate and Agnes approached while her small pack dealt with the guards. Her mate helped her when she struggled with the enormous bar blocking the gate until, finally, they lifted it free.

---

Queen Margaret paced the throne room with her king. Eight of their guards, the elite of their small army, stood at attention along the hall. They drew their swords and formed a ring around the royal couple at the first heavy strike against the chamber doors.

"Where are they?!" the queen screamed. "Why aren't they here to protect-"

Light dimmed in the center of the room. Darkness seemed attracted to it, pulling from the corners of the room until it formed a large, oval void. The center of the oval twisted and an old, hunched woman stepped out.

"You!" The queen raged. "This is all your fault! You cursed her!"

The old woman laughed and flipped her free hand. "No, I saved her. And the others won't be coming to save you. For you see-"

With a loud 'crack!' the heavy door to the chamber exploded in wooden shards. A tall, powerful blonde werewolf stepped into the room, ducking her head through the door. A horde of werewolves stood behind her.

"You see," the old woman continued. "Your daughter has breached the castle. They hold no dominion over her. Not any longer."

The werewolf paused and growled. Her claws sunk into the solid stone next to her and she anchored herself. Her body trembled and shrunk, thick blonde fur receding back into her skin. Bones creaked and cracked and groaned until her muzzle began to resemble the princess's beautiful face.

Princess Isabella stood naked before her parents. A pitch black male werewolf came up behind her and to her side. An honor guard. Her mate. She ran her fingers through the fur on his stomach he chuffed at her in return.

She was taller, leaner and far stronger than she'd been Her heavy breasts hung perfect and full on a wide, fit body. The black werewolf placed a momentary possessive paw on her breast before stepping back.

"Princess," the old woman said with a small bow.

"Isabella!" Queen Margaret exclaimed. She rushed forward but stopped behind her guard. "Move!"

"No, highness," the commander said.

Princess Isabella smiled, showing small, sharp fangs. "They have the right of it, mother."

"Would you kill us, then?" the king asked.

"No, father," the princess answered. "No, I wouldn't kill you. But, you aren't wolves. You could never be a proper wolf. You bartered away our kingdom blindly and, in the end, tried to sell me off to a foreign prince to buy a few more years of peace. Both of you. You aren't fit for ruling and you aren't fit to join me."

The princess turned to the old woman. "Grandmother? Would you, please? One more favor?"

The old woman smiled. "No favor this. Pure pleasure."

Power filled the air. The wolves growled uneasily behind Isabella but settled at her signal. The king and queen hugged each other, unsure of what was happening. The royal couple begin to sweat profusely while their guard glanced nervously at each other.

"What do you intend?" the king asked. He hooked a finger beneath his collar, pulling at it to allow air inside. His cheeks began to swell, slowly, and his jaw pushed forward.

"John!" the queen exclaimed, falling to her hands and knees. She rolled to her back and kicked, pulling at her purple and gold dress. It bulged over her swelling stomach and she tore at it frantically until the growth of her body simply tore the overly tight dress down the side. Her white under clothes were stained with sweat and they too strained under her growth. Her sagging breasts pressed against the fabric and the buttons popped, exposing her chest. The breasts sagged no more as the skin tightened and they became bloated, larger and larger until they were full and heavy on her body. Her large, dark nipples elongated, doubling and tripling in length until the dangled from her chest. "What are you doing to reeeeeeee!"

The queen clasped hands to her mouth at the loud squeal that escaped. Her large belly was full and rounded. Light patches of short white and brown hair was sprouting from her back and sides. Her ears grew longer until they flopped over and she rolled awkwardly to her distended belly.

With wide, horrified eyes, the king watched the changes unfold. His face continued to lengthen and his nose pulled flat and round on his swollen cheeks. He fell to knees, yanking at his robe as his own body changed.

A sword clanged to the ground in front of him. The commander of the guards twirled in place, slapping at his arm, chest and neck. Small black holes opened along his neck and shoulders. Long, black wet feathers slid from the holes in his skin. He danced around, plucking at one and screaming at the pain of it. More grew forth, faster and faster and he began to remove his armor and clothes, throwing them aside as he frantically stripped.

"I can't stop it!" He cried out. He pulled and plucked at his feathers until the pain grew too much. The man's mouth bulged forward, the skin hardening into a glossy beak that clacked loudly while he spoke. Pure, inky blackness flooded the man's eyes and he flapped his arms to steady himself on unsteady feet. "I can't- I caaaaaawww! Caaaaw!"

The men around their commander yelled in revulsion and scattered. Princess Isabella watched them with amusement, noting how easily they broke. More of her wolves stepped into the room, cutting off the soldier's retreat. And yet, there was no need as, one by one, they fell to the ground, screams turning to the loud cries of the ravens they were becoming.

One soldier crawled to Isabella. The long, wet feathers lining his arms dragging on the flagstones. He reached for the princess's leg but stopped at a growl from the black werewolf by her side. Naked but for his tattered hose and linen leggings, he begged incoherently for her to help him. A massive lump formed on the soldier's lower back. He reached for it and his huge wings stirred the air. The man paused, tilting his head to look at the glossy feathers drying on his body. He looked back up at the princess with his strange, black eyes and blinked.

With a single, graceful movement, the man lifted both arms. Thick, ropy muscles bulged beneath the feathers coating his back. He flapped his wings and Isabella turned her face away from the powerful gust of wind he caused. The soldier lifted into the air and then settled on his feet before Isabella. He cocked his head again and then tilted his wings before sketching an awkward bow. Around the room, the other raven men bowed before her, some toppling forward when their toes began to lengthen and change.

The young princess strode forward towards her parents. Her father sat against his throne. His eyes were unfocused, set deep within his snout. He picked at two fused fingers on his right hand, mindlessly trying to separate them over and over. They shortened while he plucked at them and he grunted when a third finger merged. His nails grew thick and strong and he held it up to his daughter.

"Reeee?" the old man grunted. He began to fall but Isabella caught him and gently laid him on his side. His wife, the queen, stood on four short legs nearby. She walked to her husband and thrust her nose at him, sniffing and grunting while the old man's belly expanded.

"What will you do now?" the old witch asked behind the princess.

Werewolves flooded the room, snapping and growling at the changed royal guard. The former guardsmen ignored the wolves. On silent black wings that seemed to drink of the light, they flew to higher ground to observe and wait for the princess's orders.

"The neighboring kingdom was so kind to send their son to wed me," the princess mused. She turned and sat on the throne, pushing her father gently with her foot when he nosed too close to her. Her mate climbed the steps to stand beside the throne. "They were eager to gain a foothold in my father's kingdom. I'd say that, come night, it's time to return the favor."

The old woman nodded several times. "Your godmothers will intervene. Not directly against you, no, they cannot. But they will try to stop you."

"Well," the princess said. She smiled, showing her teeth. Her sharp little canines were lengthening as fur began to sprout along her body. "Then I shall make good use of the gifts they bestowed upon me on my birth."

She stood, still changing. Her jaw cracked and she snarled. "All of them."

Howls filled the chamber. Distant pack members, some in the middle of their first transformation, tentatively picked up the cry until it filled the city.

---

Three women sat in a semi-circle before a roaring fire, staring into the flames. The youngest of them wept silently. The air shimmered and wavered above the logs as if the intense heat was tearing a hole in the fabric of reality itself.

"We must ask his help," the oldest of them said.

A log split, shifting on the pile and spitting tiny embers. For a moment, the image of a mountain was visible above the fire. It was snow-capped and alone, far taller than the surrounding peaks. A gigantic cave opened near the summit and it glowed with a soft light. The image faded as quickly as it appeared.

"The cost is too high," the middle woman croaked. She reached for a nearby cup with trembling fingers. "We cannot."

"I'll-" the youngest spoke. She sniffed and wiped tears from the corner of her eyes. "I'll speak to him."

The oldest woman nodded. "Gods be with ye. I'm sorry."

A low, moaning wind twisted and flattened the fire until it licked the rocks surrounding it. The two old women sat alone, watching it in silence as the full moon rose overhead.