The Foolish Prince Chapter 8

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“The Foolish Prince”

This is a story about a foolish Prince, an evil sorcerer, and the misuse of a magical artifact of great power . . . mischief and chaos ensue.

** The Sorcerer, Horus, tired of serving the royal family is ready at last to make his move. **


Chapter Eight


“Master, I have failed.”

The words hung in the air and Nefertari quivered in fear. It was never wise to fail a Stygian Sorcerer. Instead of lashing out in anger Horus ran one boney had over his bald brow.

“When was the last time the Prince took your body, and used it for his pleasure?”

“Five nights ago.”

Horus let out a sigh, “Then I’m afraid my, beautiful slave, his attention has wandered.” Slowly, a smile crept over Horus boney face. It wasn’t a pleasant smile and Nefertari shivered in fear. Knowing her life was his to use or dispose of, at his leisure, she threw herself on the floor.

“Mercy, my lord.”

Horus laughed, “You realize that our race, and my kind, do not understand the word, mercy?” Then with a cruel voice he continued, “However, as fate would have it, my use of you is not yet over.” Pulling a ring off his hand and tossed it to the floor in front of Nefertari. “Pick it up and put it on.”

Nefertari swiftly complied wondering what magic the ring contained. “Listen well slave. That ring was made from the same crystal as the pendant in the prince’s necklace. It has two powers. The first, while the ring is worn the necklace’s magic cannot touch the wearer. You might have noticed that I’ve worn that ring every day that you’ve known me.”

“Yes, master. You no longer wish the prince to use his necklace on me?”

“Neither artifact will work on the other while it is worn.” Horus continued ignoring Nefertari’s comment, “That brings us to the second power. During the three days and nights of the full moon the Prince’s necklace loses its magic and the ring gains those powers.”

At this Nefertari’s pulse raced. That meant she held the key to her own freedom.

“Don’t get any idea’s slave. I crafted both items. Betray me and I’ll find you no matter what body you wear and feed your soul to a daemon of the deepest pit!” This time when he spoke Horus’s eyes took on a ruby glow.

“Nay, master, your will shall be done. Instruct poor Nefertari.”

“I have seen Caspar every day, for the last three days in court at King Oberon’s right hand. He now trains in the afternoons with the Knights who’ve been blooded in combat instead of the young bloods. He earned his spurs and it looks like the King has started to teach him the affairs of state.”

“Yes, master, and he spends every night, from the moment he retires until he arises for the day in his wife’s chambers.”

Horus glanced out his window and saw that the last rays of the sun were glimmering across the sky. “Tonight, when the full moon rises that ring will grant you the powers of possession, transformation, and spiritual transference.” Laughing Horus continued, “Now, pay attention for the first steps in my plan must be taken today.”


The silence was heavy, not merely a burden or a need to be cautious but almost physical weight that Caspar could feel on his thin feminine shoulders as he slid unobserved into his former royal apartments. ‘Can it only have been a month?’ he wondered as he moved gracefully, or as gracefully as a woman large with child could, through the suite. For several seconds, he stood there feeling the room. Tasting the air on his dainty feminine tongue and looking from one familiar object in the sitting room to the next. As he did he listened for any sign that the man claiming to be the Crown Prince was in the room.

Satisfied, that Sanja was indeed away riding with the king, Caspar slid his slipper shod feet over the cold flagstone and then stepped onto the thick plush carpet of a rug he’d had made. He could feel the thickness of the rug through his soft slippers and shivered in pleasure rubbing his dainty sensitive feet along the thick material. “He’s gone.” Caspar whispered at once annoyed at his fear of being discovered, in his own rooms, and thrilled at the illicit nature of sneaking into his former apartments. As the princess and wife to the royal prince he should only be here if summoned.

Caspar put aside these feelings he moved toward the bedroom where his personal safe lay hidden behind a painting of the ocean. As he did he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the full-length mirror that he used to use to ensure he was dressed properly for court. The woman staring back was a vision of beauty. With her ever-growing belly, she now wore a dress cut to display both her amazing bodice and her expanding womb. There was a soft glow of motherhood about her. Caspar reached down to gently rub his tummy and felt the sleepy movement of the twins within. ‘Twins! How can the midwife know?’ Yet, he didn’t doubt the prediction. The ladies of the court were a steady source of irritation and information.

They were an irritation because of the non-stop chatter and the fact that he seemed unable to escape them. Although, at times, they explained things to him, repeatedly, that Caspar thought every girl must learn as she grows to womanhood. Even his mother, the queen, got in on it, telling Caspar that he was showing far more than was normal for a woman at this stage of pregnancy. They were also full of advice on how to deliver the babies, a singular act that Caspar was desperate to avoid.

The thought of childbirth brought his mind back to the task at hand and he moved through the bedchamber. The room was neater than Caspar remembered keeping it. “Of course, that brute hasn’t slept here since he claimed a husband’s rights.” The sound of his soft voice no longer startled Caspar, instead he blushed remembering the things he’d done over the past weeks. As Sanja became more and more comfortable in her male role she had demanded Caspar submit to her every command.

Beyond the hours spent using her cock to ride Caspar’s pussy, Sanja had ordered him to display his needle point. Judging it unfit Sanja had made him redo it until she was satisfied that it was as good or better than what she’d once produced. Then there had been the questions. While lying awake after sating her masculine lust upon Caspar’s soft body she’d taken to asking him questions.

Not about his life, as the prince, but about his life as a girl, the youngest member and only daughter of the Baron of Turvasatama’s family. At first Caspar, had thought Sanja was joking when she’d asked him about a time she’d gone riding with her bothers and they’d discovered a tidal pool full of shellfish. Then memory blossomed within Caspar’s mind as though he’d lived it. Filled with excitement he’d relayed the story perfectly to Sanja.

At this she’d nodded, “Yes, I’ve been getting flashes of memory as well. I find it helps if I remind myself that I’m a man, the Crown Prince, and the most powerful warrior in the castle.”

Caspar looked over at his naked husband as she idly played with Caspar’s breasts. The bed’s canopy had left Caspar’s former face in shadow. “But you aren’t the crown prince, I am. Sanja, please we must switch back!”

At this Sanja had laughed and rolled on top of Caspar’s soft body pinning it beneath her larger form. “We aren’t switching back. Or at least, not until you’ve fully accepted your womanhood. You are still resisting.” Then she pushed her cock into Caspar’s pussy, still wet from her most recent use. “How many times have you admitted that you are a woman and that you love being a woman? That you wish you’d been born a woman? How many times have you begged me to fuck you and take you like the little slut you should have been born to be?”

Caspar shook his head to drive off the memory, his braided hair swinging from side to side. That night Sanja had demanded that he uses his mouth and ass to pleasure the royal penis. Every time Caspar had approached a climax Sanja had sensed it and demanded that Caspar admit that his name was Sanja and that he had always wished to be a woman. Caspar knew it wasn’t true, but the pleasure had been too intense and the need to climax seemed far more important. He’d been forced to repeat it over and over, again.

“I’m Sanja. I’m a woman. I always wanted to be a woman. I love the feeling of my husband, Caspar’s, cock inside of me.” The memory of how Sanja had forced him to submit and had taken him made Caspar’s pussy grown moist and his breath quicken. From that point on Sanja had ordered Caspar to repeat his new name 100 times before falling asleep each night. “I am the Princess Sanja, wife to Caspar the Crown Prince, and soon to be mother to his children.”

In the morning Sanja had looked down on Caspar’s still naked body and said in a gentle voice that if Caspar slipped up, and referred to Sanja by any name, other than Caspar, he’d add a year to Caspar’s time in her body. “Never ask to switch back.” Sanja had added. “Once I’m sure that you’ve truly accepted your life as a woman, as a wife, and a mother, only then will I consider restoring us.” Then Sanja had left the room.

Caspar lifted the picture off the wall and grimaced at the weight. She’d never thought this picture was heavy before. Setting it to one side she remembered Horus’s warning. The longer she spent in the form of another the more of that person’s memories, skills, and traits she’d acquire. Caspar shivered. Already, after only a little more than a month, this female body felt normal. The weight of her breasts, the absence of her cock, the easy sway of her hips as she moved through the castle, it all felt normal. Natural. The day after the swap these differences had nearly driven her mad. “I must switch us back.”

Turning the dial on the safe Caspar felt a moment of panic. She couldn’t remember the numbers! ‘No, I remember, the day of my father’s birth, then my mother’s, and last mine.’ She thought and then the click as the lock opened sent a shiver of relief through her tiny body.

Standing on her tip-toes she peered into the safe. Caspar pushed the coins, a bag of uncut jewels, some jewelry she only wore to court on important occasions, to one side looking for the necklace. A panic gripped her, ‘What if he lost it?’ With nothing else to do Caspar closed the safe returned the painting to its peg and hurried from the room. She felt defeated, alone, and afraid. ‘Must I accept his commands? Must I submit to my husband?’ The thought sent another shiver through her and then she shook her head. Despite everything Caspar was the prince and she’d come from a long line of warriors, submission wasn’t a thing she could accept.

For a time, she could pretend to submit, but she’d never truly give up. ‘I’ve been with him every night. I’ve searched his clothes while he slept, he isn’t carrying the necklace.’ Caspar slowly wandered through the castle unsure of where she intended to go as she walked. ‘If I wished to hide something and I didn’t want my wife to find it, where would I hide it?’ Then it struck her. A soft smile quirked the corners of Caspar’s delicate lips. “Oh, you sly boy. You think you’ve out witted me, do you? We shall see.”


The sounds of water splashing and the chatter of woman gossiping filled the laundry chamber. Nefertari moved into the room and none of the slaves present seemed to notice her intrusion. The sight of the exotic Stygian woman, a pleasure slave, if rumors were true, and the Court Sorcerer’s personal slave among the lowly laundry women would have caused much comment. Yet, Nefertari took her place at a tub and went to work. Looking down at her pale hands and short, ill cut, nails she had to stifle a grimace.

Horus had summoned one of the laundry women to his chamber on the pretext of picking up his clothes for cleaning. Hedda, a woman who’d been working in the laundry for a few years had arrived and Horus commanded her to disrobe. Once naked Nefertari saw that Hedda was a buxom woman, and her beasts and stomach showed the stretch marks of child birth. Horus had placed a hand on her head and said, “Somnum” and the woman and slipped to the floor. In seconds her soft snoring told Nefertari that she was indeed asleep.

Using the ring Nefertari and touched the pile of clothes and said, “Invoca.” It had been weeks since the Prince had used the magic to transform her, yet the sensations felt the same. The only difference was that this body was older, well used, and plain. Not the glorious perfection of the blonde Northern woman or the athletic form of his un-pregnant wife. Now it was the perfect cover for what she needed.

By the time Nefertari returned to Horus’s tower her whole body ached. Age and hard work had taken a toll and spending most of the day hunched over a washing board scrubbing had been an unpleasant task. It was worse when the full weight of her breasts had to be supported in that position by the small of her back. When she paused to knock on Horus’s door she smiled, at least she had succeeded with this mission, and would soon be restored to her youthful female form.


King Oberon was in a fine mood, his delinquent son had turned his life around. By all reports he’d given up his womanizing ways and now spent every night with his wife. Not that Oberon blamed him, Sanja was a beautiful lass. When he’d agreed to the marriage, Oberon had hoped she could tame his wild son. After a year of marriage, he’d all but given up hope. Yet, by some miracle it had happened. Not that he begrudged Caspar the chance to sow a few oats, but too many royal bastards running around isn’t good for a kingdom.

Oberon entered his study and saw Gunter stand up and turn to greet him. He was holding a package and had an unusually somber expression on his normally jovial face. “What ails you this afternoon, my good man?”

“I must apologize my lord. I was considering another matter. This arrived for you today.”

Oberon took the package from Gunter and rested a hand on the Master-at-Arms strong shoulder. “Nothing to apologize for, I’m sure Kyler will write soon. He’s been gone now, what? A month? Two? Do not worry.”

“As you say my lord.” Then Gunter gestured to the package. “This arrived today, although I do not know who sent it.”

“Odd,” the king muttered and opened the heavy paper. Inside, he found a heavy gold ring wrapped in a delicate rose colored material.

“That looks expensive, my lord, does it fit?”

“Let us see.” Oberon replied and slid the ring onto his first finger. The light from the late afternoon sun played over the crystal causing it to catch fire.

“A fine gift,” Gunter noted. “What of the cloth? It looks like a lady’s scarf.”

Oberon picked up the scarf examining it and nodded, “There appears to be some fine needle point here.”

“Is that writing on the far end? Perhaps it might offer a clue to the owner of the scarf and the person who has given you such a fine present?”

Oberon looked at the end of the scarf and saw a neat script, “Invoca? What an odd thing to write.” Abruptly, Oberon froze. Then as Gunter watched he seemed to shrink. His long blonde and gray hair pulled into his scalp as did his great beard. Massive shoulders became smaller and smaller and the six foot thee inch man lost more than a foot of height. His skin changed from light to dark and then it was over.

Oberon shook his head, “W-What has happened? By all the gods, what vile magic is this?”

“Not the gods, Nefertari. This is Stygian magic.” Gunter said a broad grin splitting his face as he stepped up to the king.

The king lifted his hands rubbing the orbs of flesh on his chest through the thick fabric of his now oversized tunic. “I-I have breasts?” Then his eyes focused on the man he thought was Gunter, “Why do you call me by this name? This Nefertari?”

The man moved forward now towering over the slight figure of the king. “Because, for twenty-five years it was my name.” Then he grabbed the king and threw him to the ground and began to strip the transformed king.

“Stop, I command you to stop!” The king shrieked only to be cut off by the vicious back handed blow from Gunter that sent his head spinning. By the time his head cleared he discovered he’d been expertly stripped and his hands were now bound behind his back and he’d been gagged. Using his legs Oberon rolled from his side onto his back and looked up and watched, in horror, as Gunter shed his garments. Ignoring the King, who now wriggled about trying to free himself, the false Gunter slid the ring onto a hand. Oberon screamed uselessly into his gage and squirmed, his luscious female flesh moving disconcertingly and tried to inch away from the man he thought had betrayed him.

At this Nefertari looked down at the wiggling, squirming, form of the king and paused. “I have never appreciated how beautiful I was from a man’s perspective.”

Nefertari reached down and stroked the cock between his legs. “My master commands that I deliver you to him, after I take your form. I have several hours before sunrise.” Nefertari moved to tower over the prostrate king. “This being the case, I think I shall enjoy the opportunity, as it might never come again. What man wouldn’t wish to sate his lust upon the flesh of such a beautiful woman? Yet, let us complete our tasks before we indulge the flesh.”

The man Oberon still thought was Gunter reached down and picked up the royal tunic, “Invoca.” With wide eyes Oberon watched that transformation. Gunter’s body grew a few inches and his shoulders expanded as even more muscle was added to the master swordsman’s lean frame. Dark hair lightened and Gunter’s closely groomed beard became longer until it almost touched his chest. In seconds the transformation was complete and Oberon stared in disbelief at his own body. Then in horror he watched as his doppelganger reached between his legs. The only thing that hadn’t changed was that the cock between the now royal thighs remained standing at attention.

“I’m going to enjoy this.” Nefertari growled grasping Oberon by one arm and hauling him to his feet. “I was raped for the first time at the age of twelve. This won’t be as painful, but I’m sure you’ll never forget.” Then Nefertari turned the former king around and pushed him face first onto the table. Oberon gasped as he felt the first touch of Nefertari’s cock against his new pussy lips. A part of him denied that this could be happening. He was a man and the King! With a steady thrust Nefertari pushed into the King’s pussy. The intrusion left him gasping and now he tried to fight but Nefertari in his powerful body knew exactly what to do as she took him from behind.


It was well after midnight when Nefertari climbed the stairs to Horus’s tower. She effortlessly carried, the motionless body of the Stygian slave, wrapped in a blanket, enjoying the raw power of her new form. It might have seemed strange, the king going to the sorcerer, but Nefertari had simply ordered everyone way from the Sorcerer’s tower. No one questioned her commands. She was the king as far as everyone else knew. The power filled her with delight!

Nefertari grinned a wolfish smile as she climbed remembering the last few hours. She had carried Oberon from the royal study to the King’s chambers and once there used Oberon repeatedly. She’d also discovered a familiar looking clay phial and after forcing Oberon to drink it. His reactions had confirmed that it was the same draft Horus made for Caspar. The next several hours had been the most exciting and pleasurable of Nefertari’s life, as she taught the mighty King the ways of a pleasure slave. Before it was time to leave Nefertari had the King begging to be taken. She could tell his whole world had been shaken at the betrayal of his flesh and had laughed at him enjoying his humiliation.


The command came before Nefertari could knock. The tower chamber was dark and she stumbled before the light of the braziers showed Horus sitting in his carved chair.

“It is done master.”

Seeing the King carrying the covered body of a woman and hearing Oberon call him master sent a thrill of pleasure through the old sorcerer. “Excellent. Set him down there.”

Nefertari roughly dropped Oberon to the floor and then pulled the blanket from him, placing his, well-used, naked flesh on display for Horus.

“You taught him the meaning of his new station?”

“Yes, master.”

“I did not order you to train him or teach him the meaning of womanhood.”

At this Nefertari felt her pulse race. Then the sorcerer grinned. “You have done well my slave.” Then he held out his hand. “My ring.”

Reluctantly Nefertari slid the ring from her hand and returned it to the sorcerer. “What shall I do now, master?”

“Go, as quietly as you can to Prince Caspar and bring him to me.”

“He will be with his wife at this hour. It will raise suspicion to bring him away from her apartments.”

“Worry not. And do not explain yourself. You are the king. Order him to get dressed and to follow you, it is an affair of state, and bring him here. Say nothing else.”

“Your will, my master.”

Once the door to his chamber closed behind the false Oberon Horus moved to kneel next to the supine body of the pleasure slave, now holding the stunned mind of the King. “I have served you for many years, Oberon, and hated you the whole time. If not for the indulgence of your son, you might still be king. Now, I bid you farewell, when the Lord of the underworld takes your soul from that body, he will assume you are a woman. You are going to spend all of eternity pleasuring the warriors of hell.”

Oberon tried to struggle but Nefertari had bound him for the trip to Horus’s chamber. With a laugh, Horus produced a wicked looking hooked knife and set the edge to his slave’s soft throat. “A fitting fate, for an arrogant fool of a king, I think.” Then in one smooth motion he cut Oberon’s throat. As he did he spoke a twisting word of power opening a gate to the land of the dead. Through the gate a shrouded figure moved, the figure bowed once to Horus and then using his hooked staff pulled Oberon’s spirit from Nerertari’s still warm flesh.

The spirit glowed with a transparent silvery hue and had a vague human shape. Insubstantial hands struggled at the end of the Shepard’s staff, trying to break the enchantment that held it. The being holding the staff shook it and the spirit’s shape came into focus. A voluptuous woman with long flowing hair now clung to the staff shaking her head. Then without a backward glance the being stepped through the portal returning to the land of the dead with his new prize.

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the fun's over

things just got deadly serious. I hope the sorcerer gets punished at some point ...


It's always darkest

Have you ever heard that saying; "It's always darkest, before things get really bad."