Jahaliya Ch. 04

"Now, what will happen may be rather strange to you, but you will be perfectly safe the entire time, regardless of the surreal proceedings," the Queen warned her gently, though the wolfess only nodded eagerly, barely hearing her.

"When do we begin?"

*

Adequately rehearsed and ready to begin the ceremony, Robin shifted nervously in the large, downy bed, feeling swamped by the thick, white nightgown, which was required for the ritual. The room was bare and minimalistic, in the bowels of the palace and set up in a manner that suggested props for a stage rather than the luxurious bedchambers she had become accustomed to. She strived not to allow her high anxiety show and smoothed the nightgown down methodically over her breasts. Hearing the low chime that indicated that she should begin, the wolfess looked around her surroundings blearily as if she had just woken from a deep slumber and flicked up her ear, trying identify a faint noise that was gone almost before it had time to register.

She yelped as a wave of magic, which flowed as strongly as an age-old river through the ritual chambers, raised her lightly up from the bed, treating her as if she weighed no more than a feather, her limbs no longer her own. Floating up serenely, she fell gently through a shimmering portal, not quite knowing where she was going next but delighting in the sensation of her nightgown dissolving into nothingness as if it had never rested upon her form; she squirmed happily, turning head over heels in midair and caressing her body, finally catching a lengthy glimpse of her surroundings.

Only having a few moments to take in the kitchen she now found herself in - everything many, many times larger than it should have been - the wolfess dropped into a mixing bowl of soft, yellow dough, the sticky substance clinging to her fur like a second coat. The sides of the bowl where steeply sloped and curved, so that she had no chance of climbing out, only smiling up at the chosen bakers who stood around the edge, several giant, wooden mixing spoons spaced at intervals around the rim of the bowl. As if they had no care for the wolfess, perhaps merely another ingredient to their recipe, the bakers took hold of the spoons and stirred the dough, their motions slower as the mixture was thick and unyielding to their instruments without a necessary moisture. Robin's muzzle slipped under the surface of the dough and she was scooped up without ceremony by one of the spoons, deposited carefully upon the flat top of a weighing scale, a thick layer of dough covering her from the tips of her ears to her toes.

"I'm not the milk and the milk's not me," Robin said, following the words of the ritual that she had been taught and licking a lump of sweet tasting dough off her black nose.

Her doughy coat stiffened her movements, but she took the offered, empty pitcher and placed it carefully upon her head, balancing it with due care as she felt that someone had her in their sight, though she could not tell what prompted the sensation that she was being admired and, yes, judged. Before her towered a clear, glass bottle of a white, creamy substance, treacherous scaffolding allowing some sort of access to what Robin strongly supposed was milk, though the only container that could possibly be used to transfer it now resided on top of her head.

"Milk!" The bakers called, rushing about frantically. "We have no milk!"

Determined to give the bakers what they needed, Robin darted awkwardly through a cool shower of water falling from an oversized, silver tap and washed off the upper layer of her dough coat, glad to have a little more freedom to move. She leaped agilely for the scaffolding, scampering up it with surprising grace and ease, her feet slipping a couple of times on the metal poles, leaving a pale trail of dough in her wake. Robin panted quietly as she neared the top of the bottle, again feeling as if she was being watched intently by someone in a voyeuristic style, although, when she dared to glance down, every single one of the bakers was engrossed in his or her own activities, paying no attention whatsoever to the increasingly naked wolfess.

Doing her best to shake off the warm sensation of 'sparkling' energy encircling her body, Robin felt a bit more of her dough coat melt off; she likened the feeling to that of losing her clothes and suppressed the flush of arousal that raced through her, knowing that the burning would be quenched at the conclusion of the ceremony. Resolutely, she teetered upon the brim of the bottle and swan dived into the milk, making a splash that slopped over the interior of the bottle. The dough about her form finally disintegrated completely, leaving Robin free to move as she pleased and lower the pitcher to fill it to the brim with the creamy, rich milk.

"I'm in the milk and the milk's in me," Robin chanted happily, grasping the top of the bottle to haul her slim frame over the edge, the filled pitcher of milk balanced carefully on the top of her head once more. "Goddess bless this milk and Goddess bless me!"

Clad in only her fur, Robin dashed back to the bowl of dough, pouring the milk in to complete the mixture. With the main part of her job completed, Robin stood back to watch the bakers bustle in, pouring the batter into a large, high edged pan as if to prepare it for cooking. But, for this cake, there would be no oven and gentle rising as layer upon layer was added to the masterpiece. Before her amazed eyes, Robin watched as the cake swelled, growing too large for the pan and pushing out the sides, growing into a magnificent, tiered wedding cake, icing appearing seemingly at will to coat it perfectly from top to bottom. The bakers rushed in to add an intricate pattern of delicate, sugar spun flowers to the cake, the wolfess identifying the majority of them after a moment as jasmine.

"This is amazing," Sylvia intoned softly from her high perch in the kitchen chamber, the Queen residing proudly at her side.

"And it happens just like this every time there is a royal marriage," she replied quietly, not wanting to disturb Robin or the bakers from their work. Almost speaking to herself, Sylvia shook her head in bewilderment, feeling the warmth in her crotch spread further, becoming more heated by the second.

"And I'm aroused by watching one of my own girls losing her clothes," she said in confusion, dropping her muzzle a fraction. "How is this..." She trailed off, blinking rapidly at the sudden beaming warmth above her head that seemed to be comforting her and easing her mind so that all that remained was a fierce pride for her student, Robin.

"Robin!" The Queen called out happily, leaning back into the ebb and flow of the Goddess' magic that supported her form also, seeing how Sylvia was calmed by the higher power. "The Goddess is pleased! She is here! Complete the ceremony, my daughter!"

She is here? Robin pondered briefly, then leaping into the air and clapping her hands in unprecedented ecstasy: the goddess was there! She had completed the ritual to her higher satisfaction! Grinning like a fool, Robin danced in a circle, closing her eyes to enjoy the blissful sensation of the Goddess drinking in the sight and shape of her naked, youthful body with a pure but electric lust and love. She looked to the oversized plastic piping bag, which would have been used for icing, leading down from her perch directly to the extravagant wedding cake.

"Cock-a-doodle-doo!" The wolfess crowed joyfully as she slid down the makeshift slide to land with a muffled giggle in the midst of the wedding cake, which bulged then returned to its normal shape as if swallowing her whole.

She yelped softly as she disappeared inside it, though quickly relaxed and settled in to wait when she realised that the was still able to breathe normally and, what was all the better, see outside the wedding cake at the preparations still continuing around her.

The cake was quickly loaded on to a spacious serving trolley and wheeled out of the kitchen and into the maze of corridors below the palace, the bakers' eager to take both the cake and the encased wolfess to the wedding reception. Robin looked out with some trepidation as the cake was placed before the table of the bride and groom, Ryoga appearing subtly despondent but thrilled at the wonderful creation the bakers had brought forth; Jasmine showed little emotion at all, her eyes cast down behind the veil as she murmured her appreciation, perhaps guessing at what was going to happen.

"Ladies and gentlefurs," Lydra announced grandly, gesturing at the towering cake. "Please enjoy the creation of our talented bakers, specially chosen for their irreplaceable skills in magical crafting; you are very blessed and honoured to have taken part in such a ceremony. May the goddess smile upon you. And now without further ado, please welcome, one very special baker who has played a large paw in the creation of this masterpiece."

Robin burst from the upmost tier of the cake with a flourish of icing, showering those sitting before her with the soft sponge - one of the baker's iced flowers landing upon Princess Jasmine's veil, though she brushed it aside reflexively, not seeming to know what to do with the splash of icing that remained upon her paw. Ryoga shouted joyfully to see Robin again, half-reaching his paw out to her before drawing in back, unsure of her feelings or intent.

"My friends!" Robin playfully giggled, pulling more of her body out of the cake so that she could more easily address the whole congregation within the banquet hall. "Ever since I came to your world, wonderful, wonderful things have happened to me, things I would never have dreamed of before. I lost every single article of demure clothing, along with my inhibitions; I have had many exciting adventures and, most importantly, I have met a wonderful, loving, caring prince who I have not cared for in return, as yet. I was willing to throw all of this away because of one, petty jealousy and I am deeply sorry for my insecurities in this sense, Ryoga."

She paused briefly, a warm blush covering her muzzle as she caressed her body, rubbing the mess from the cake into her fur and licking the icing lewdly from her fingers, arousal emanating from the wolfess like an electric current.

"It would be so silly to throw it away," she repeated softly, holding Ryoga's gaze. "Now this naked, messy, horny slut in your wedding cake would very much like to know if the offer still stands to be your second wife."

Desperate to dive at Robin on the spot and take her as his at long last, Ryoga glanced consciously at Jasmine, worried that she might object to a second marriage so soon, even though he knew that it was common in her homeland. But after receiving a slight, yet certain, nod in the affirmative, Ryoga leapt instantly to his feet, his hard cock bobbing eagerly before him.

"Yes, Robin!" He cried out happily, leaning far forward to take her paws in his own. "I love you, Robin, and I would dearly love for you to be my second wife."

The hall reverberated with the cheers of the citizens of Jahaliya, the shouts of the harem and, of course, John, by far the loudest, the mouse clapping madly as he saw his friend's muzzle overcome with joy and relief. With all the elegance required of a prince, John climbed over the table, scattering plates, to tackle Robin into the cake, the sponge exploding deafeningly upon impact and showering every fur within the hall in sweet sponge and icing.

Lydra stood up, licking the frosting from her muzzle with her long, feline tongue, hinting at what her skilled tongue was capable of in other areas. Paying no heed to her, Ryoga smiled down at Robin and thrust deeply into her cunny, the wolfess lolling her tongue out in pleasure, yipping at her lover to fuck her faster.

"Their marriage is sealed!" Lydra declared, smiling at the sight and reaching down to spread her pussy lips wide apart, an open invitation. "Let us celebrate: in the name of the Goddess, who has blessed us, let us fuck!"

With that said, the lusty panther dived into the welcoming arms of the nearest studs, their paws roaming her body with pleasure and anticipating of the lusty union that was to come. Seated at the main table, Sylvia leaned into Horace, avidly watching the multiple couples - and some threesomes - copulating lustily around her, her paw drifting to her crotch to rub her pussy softly. John had been claimed by a pair of seductive tigress', his fingers buried into the dripping sex of one while the other rode his cock, keeping the contented mouse pinned between her legs. The only fur in the room that was not enjoying themselves was Princess Jasmine.

John caught a glimpse of the dejected canine, struggling to still his frantic motions just for a second, the disappointed mews of his companions making his cheeks colour guiltily. Ducking her head, Princess Jasmine played with her fingers in her lap, smoothing out invisible creases in her gown with deliberate precision.

"Ladies, please excuse me," John murmured regretfully, disengaging from their coupling. "But there is something I must attend to."

"Come back quickly," one tigress purred, running her tongue suggestively over her lips.

Taking up station at Princess Jasmine's side, John placed his paw on her shoulder in a comforting gesture, but quickly withdrew it when she flinched, startled. He shook his head apologetically before snapping his attention to a muscular lion with a shaggy mane that bounded up without a care in the world, his intent clear.

"Not today," John broke in before he had the chance to speak, neatly deflecting the invitation. The lion shook his head, extending his paw towards Princess Jasmine, who he had expected to answer for herself, but John stepped forward sternly, inclining his head towards some single furs that were merely enjoying the view without partners. The message was clear.

"Of course!" He replied happily, not at all put out by the rejection, and leapt off to find another partner for the celebration.

"It's okay," John said quietly to Princess Jasmine, his voice low enough so that only she could hear. "You do not have to do anything that you do not want to, so don't be afraid to say no to anyone."

Princess Jasmine remained silent for the moment, her covered muzzle giving nothing away until she was prepared to divulge words to John, who waited patiently.

"Thank you," she finally breathed, the words coming out in an exhalation of breath that could have been a sigh.

Sylvia nodded approvingly, yet absently, to herself over this exchange, though she was more concerned with Horace's lips nuzzling into her neck, the lioness purring loudly.

"Sylvia?" Horce murmured, caressing her breasts gentle as his cock hardened, pushing insistently against her thigh; he clearly had other thoughts on his mind than the conflict of the new princess. "We should honour Ryoga's marriage."

"What do you mean by that?" Sylvia responded cautiously, glancing away as if she misunderstood.

"Lay back, love, and let us fuck," Horace suggested warmly, massaging Sylvia's inner thighs. "I can't wait for everyone to see how gorgeous and lusty you can be."

Blushing madly, Sylvia slowly, hesitantly, lay back across the table, the delicious, cakey mess pushed aside by her body, and allowed her muzzle fall back so that she had an upside-down view of the room. Distracted by the sight, she panted wantonly, spreading her legs as far apart as physically possible and looking pleadingly to Horace, every muscle in her body quivering subtly. All too eager to oblige his horny lioness, Horace, still standing, placed his paws upon her thighs, thrusting his length into her sex to the hilt, Sylvia moaning below him.

Leaning over Sylvia and pressing her against the table, Horace groaned and drove deeply into her cunny, her juices giving him easy entry to her most intimate recess - the lioness' thighs and crotch were near soaked with sweet arousal after only a little stimulation. Chest heaving, Sylvia brought her paws to her breasts to rub and squeeze the full, womanly mounds, nipples standing up in pert, pink peaks, a feline dashing past her muzzle with her partner, a black dog with a raging hard-on, in hot pursuit. All the sights and erotic scents were less attractive to Sylvia, however, than the virile male between her legs, however, and she raised her shapely calves, wrapping them around Horace's waist and dragging him closer, closing her eyes in bliss at Horace's moan of desire, nearing his peak.

This is a far cry from those tea socials and recitals of my old life... Sylva thought hazily, reaching between her legs to finger her clit and stimulate herself to greater heights. Things have changed... I know which one I prefer any day!

Nearby, Ryoga and Robin kissed in the broken mess of the wedding cake, Robin's fur almost as 'caked' with it as she was covered in dough not so long ago. The wolves ground their bodies against one another, Ryoga's cock hardening after his first climax with his lover and smearing pre cum into Robin's paler belly fur, the femfur not minding at all, as long as she had him close to her.

"I love you, Robin, and I always will," Ryoga declared resolutely, passion shining in his eyes and the fucking couples framing his handsome muzzle in the background. Lithely, the wolfess sprang to her feet, giggling and lapping stray icing from her fingers as she offered her other, cleaner, paw to him.

"I love you too," Robin replied with a quirky smile, assisting her lover to his feet. "But I will not make our love a prison, so enjoy yourself - fuck! - but return to your wives at the end of it to share your tales and passion."

Grabbing Robin's muzzle in his paws, Ryoga kissed her passionately, stroking his fingers over her cheek before grinning happily and pouncing upon a busty feline who murred in delight to have the virile prince of the realm as her partner. Chuckling at his eagerness, Robin clutched the arm of a towering stallion, raising her eyebrows suggestively before running her paws down his muscular chest to his rising member, the horse only more than happy to receive and return the promised pleasure.

Sylvia arched her back up from the table, hardly paying attention to her surroundings, but feeling the acute yet pleasant sensation of many eyes traversing her sleek form. As Horace thrust wildly into her, her voluptuous breasts bounced almost gleefully upon her tawny chest, the lioness' rasping, lusty breath quick in her throat as a shuddering orgasm made her tremble and moan deeply, digging her heels into Horace's back. The world trembled about her and she flung her muzzle back violently, letting out a typically feline yowl of pleasure as the ecstasy rose to new heights, the desiring, hungry stares more potent than a drug to her.

"Oh - look!" She heard a boar cry delightedly when she regained some semblance of her senses. "The Harem Matron has finally joined us!"

"Look at them fuck!" He added admiringly, dropping a sly wink to Horace who had slowed his pace to allow Sylvia a brief respite in which to catch her racing breath. "Hey, Horace, keeping her for yourself?"

"This time, yes," he panted lightly, caressing Sylvia's muzzle lovingly with the palm of his paw.

Shrugging with a lopsided grin, the boar trotted off, cock bobbing in the air as he excitedly informed others of the spectacle taking place upon the table, the couple soon gathering quite a crowd around them. Even the King, surrounded by his own sensual harem of ladies, was caught glancing through the throng of horny bodies, seeing the lioness engaging in a most raw, passionate display with a gusto that made his cock rise, seemingly insatiable at the eager paws of his harem. Too distracted to discern the majority of whispers and murmurs from the scene, Sylvia ran her paws down her body in a sudden bid of sultriness, squeezing and rubbing her breasts to a series of admiring shouts and clapping.