Becoming His Desire Ch. 02

This is a short work of erotic fiction containing furry, or anthropomorphic, characters, which are animals that either demonstrate human intelligence or walk on two legs, for the purposes of these tales. It is a thriving and growing fandom in which creators are prevalent in art and writing especially.

Please note that all characters are clearly over eighteen and written as such in all stories.

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Days passed and, even though the fact that something was changing inside her could not be denied, Jacynda found it more difficult than ever to care. Her studies slipped as her attention wavered and she spent more and more time down at the fighting grounds, the training grounds. It felt like more her speed down there as she took up practise, even training alongside the prince, even though he had his own instructor, the highest skilled swordsman and a jouster who was renowned across the land.

It was good to be around him and she caught his gaze more than once, though it was a feral, savage smile in the heat of fake battle that she threw back at him. Once, the prince stumbled back, his jaw dropping, not knowing or understanding what had come over him -- or so she thought.

Her heart surged. She was getting to him...slowly but surely. Jacynda had almost forgotten that she was doing all of what she was doing, waiting for the spell to draw him closer to her, but...something seemed to be working? He sat a little nearer to her when there was a banquet, leaning across the table to catch her conversation, even if he was not drawn into her talk about mage craft. Maybe that was something that Jacynda had to work on, though she could not worry too much about her studies, her work, despite how the master mage was chasing her to keep up with her studies. Beyond him, there was no one there to hold her to task.

She'd drank the ale that had been left in her room, the gift, however...and liked the taste. More and more had slipped down her throat until she was so warm and so comfortable that she wondered why she had never wanted to try it before. It was strange to drink, to seek out different liquors, though it was the simpler brews that made her tastebuds dance the most, not the fine wines that were served to nobles in the castle. But that suited her just fine, seeking nights out at the taverns, laughing with her new friends from the training grounds: Marvin, Henry, Sid, Stonny and Theodore. The latter of which was constantly mocked for his name, many different versions of it (each one more insulting than the last) used daily, though it was all in the nature of their strange, rough and tumble friend group.

It was strange to have friends, again. Jacynda had not had that for a while, though she didn't think Stonny was ever really going to take a shine to her. Not everyone was going to get on perfectly, however.

She tilted her head before the goblet on the banquet table, how it rose smoothing, distorting her features. Her hair was longer, growing and growing, as if she couldn't do anything about it no matter how many times she visited the castle barber, who was resident on site. Her face seemed thicker, though not in a bad way, as if her features were changing. Her brow was a little heavier, but in a beautiful way, a way that seemed natural, and the hair on her fingers, the backs of her hands and her arms had become more obvious than before.

Something was changing and she didn't mind. She preferred her new life, the one spent drinking and going out on wild nights, though the other trainee mage at the palace laughed at how she had thrown it all away. It did not feel like throwing everything away, however, but taking stock of something new, becoming something new -- and how could that ever be a bad thing?

Later that night, she waited in her chambers, the small room that was all her own as a student mage. She was fortunate to have it, but she was missing the mirror still that could have allowed her to better take in her whole body, all the changes that had come to pass.

But she could light a candle and set it burning brightly, her hair loose and wild about her shoulders. It hung down to her mid-back, thick and luscious, though it was harder and harder to tame daily. That was not a bad thing, though she liked it rather more than her braid, rarely tying it up in the braid for any longer. She took herself down to her plain undergarments, even removing the breeches that she preferred to wear over the skirts that she had liked to cover herself up with before. The fabric there had drowned her.

Undergarments, for men and women alike, were simple, functional, though more functional for women than men who were expected to fight or do something worthwhile with their lives. There was a corset that she had donned, yes, but it was more for the fashion of the banquet and she had begun forgoing the everyday one that had taken the place of a whore's brassiere. They were not supportive, of course not, but they were in more common use around whore houses and the like, considering how much easier they were to remove from a woman's body.

What did that mean for her when she wanted to forsake anything on the top half of her body altogether? It was simply more comfortable that way, but such a thing that she didn't want to spend any time worrying about it, none at all.

The hair... It had darkened to a deep red that neared black, all over her body. Jacynda had not taken the time to understand the changes, though it set her heart pounding with excitement, as if she was charging another fighter, sword raised in a triumphant flash of sunlight above her head. Her thighs were thicker with it, muscle rising and giving them shape, but the hair was everywhere, down even on the backs of her calves. Hairy feet might have been something to give her cause for revulsion before, but all she did as she played her fingers curiously across her toes was give a short bark of laughter.

It was right, wasn't it? It was the way it was meant to be, her shoulders rounder, though she didn't think it a bad thing. It made her clothes fit differently and that was why she had chosen more clothing that the men wore during sparring matches: a loose fit and tied often at the neck to allow the greatest flexibility. Her chest rounded out the front of any shirt she wore, though she no longer tried to hide the change of her breasts.

Taller, yes... She thought dimly, a shift of her weight pressing her lips together, as if she was thinking of something else entirely. She was taller. Not by much, but enough that she had noticed too when she'd been sitting at her desk. Her legs no longer fit under it all that well anymore when she was studying, which was a strange thing indeed. The hair was the most noticeable thing, even if she didn't bother wearing clothes anymore that would have hidden it, covering her arms, more on the backs than anything else, her eyebrows thicker, but in a way that made her face look fiercer.

Jacynda smiled at her reflection, the small mirror glancing back at her. Yet it had not been enough to take full stock of her changes, how her body was firmer, stronger, losing the features in a way that had made her body what it was before. She almost looked a bit stockier too, with how her body had shifted its centre of gravity, her torso not as long nor as lean as it had been, though that was of no worry to her. Her stronger jawline was almost masculine, yet there remained a hint of femininity around her cheekbones and eyes.

She liked it. Simply so. Yet that was not what the spell had been supposed to do. Maybe she should have realised earlier, but...

"The object of his desire, huh?"

Even her way of speaking was less eloquent, though Jacynda didn't care about that. It was hard to care or worry about anything as she finally understood the spell, pacing to her spell casting cabinet and going through the ingredients.

The goblet that she had used had been tucked away in the back, but she took it in her hand and sniffed it warily. There was no trace of rose water in there, none at all, though the rose water bottle that had been left in the cabinet was perfectly full, not a drop missing.

Something had gone awry, but, strangely enough, with the prince's eyes wandering to her more and more, she couldn't find it in herself to care.

Everything was right in her corner of the world and she only had to see where the path led her. It was better not to worry about it.

If she'd been in her old mind, Jacynda would have realised that that was another change that had come over her -- the loss of the churning, seething mass of worry that had coiled around her heart and only dropped into the pit of her stomach when she had forced it there. The loss of it left her breathing easily, sleeping soundly, her dreams drifting to scenes of fighting off a horde of warriors with the prince at her side.

With him, anything was possible.

With her too, of course.

Continued in part three.