Ritual - Guardian Transformation Pt. 01

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.

All work is fiction intended for fantasy only, regardless of content, and consent must always be acquired when engaging in any sex act with another adult.

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

---

"It wasn't my fault! I didn't mean -- ah! No! There was no offence caused, this is a definite misunderstanding! Just listen to me."

Tyree gasped as he was hauled up the long staircase to the temple, rising within the deep forest. Heat clung to his skin, though perspiration slicked down his clothes to his skin, a curse snarling up from the back of his throat.

It had been a mistake, yes -- but not quite in the sense that he meant. Visiting Pyroc, well... He'd been before and had been there more than enough to become comfortable with the locals, the natives speaking in a rougher, courser tongue, though they shared a secondary language with him too. Tyree usually spoke in that language, thinking that he didn't need to learn more, not when his language was by far superior anyway.

"This is a misunderstanding -- heavens, you people!"

He growled as they hauled him into the temple, even though it should have been a splendour to witness on a normal day. His feet kicked out and he scrabbled, hissing through his teeth as he clunked his heel on a plinth at the top of the stairs, head throbbing where a pounding headache was already brewing.

Visitors were not usually welcomed into the temple, except at certain times of the day at certain times of the week and, frankly, he wasn't all that interested in it anyway. It was a grand old structure, that much was certain, but it looked too close to a ruin to him, with the long, winding vines, as if half of it was being reclaimed by the jungle. However, the temple was a well-maintained structure and cleaned daily, people of the civilisation, though they often seemed to be reptilian around the temple, sweeping and cleaning the pathways.

A raptor-like creature, each one different, guarded the temple, though those were something that Tyree was keen to avoid. Anything with sharp teeth that didn't seem to have anyone controlling it, well... He wasn't going to tangle with anything like that at all.

Yet the temple was hewn from a golden stone, some parts carved and other parts made of blocks of stone, some sanded smooth into curves, so they could form columns and more. The majority of the temple was under cover, with a ridged roof, with not a scrap of moss on it in the slightest, and Tyree heaved as he was finally hauled under the roof.

A lizard-man (well, perhaps he was appropriating to assume the tall, lizard-like anthro was a man) ripped with lean, vicious muscle gripped him by the base of his neck, pinching in roughly, and he cried out. It was not the sort of cry that should ever have broken his lips, not in the slightest, but, even then, Tyree's heart pounded far more swiftly than it should have been able to, grunting as he strained to bear through it.

Oh, how they would pay for treating him like that! The lizard people, Aurelian Taithes, should have been a friendly people! Didn't they know who he was? Okay, so, granted, his father was not all that well known, but he was still a dignitary travelling from land to land, known and regarded highly by those in higher circles.

And those there should have realised he was of the same blood, with the same look in his eyes, a narrow nose and a square, broad chin with a strong jawline. No wonder he had suitors practically everywhere, women throwing themselves at his feet...

But that was just his perspective and, well, sometimes that could be skewed. Even he admitted, sometimes, that he was not all as good as he made himself out to be, but that, in his opinion, was just how he had got as far in life as he was. He didn't simply live in the shadow of his father and had made his own name and business too -- so he was most certainly someone worth knowing around Pyroc.

He sucked in a breath, drawing himself up tall, despite the grip on the back of his neck.

"Now, I assure you there has been some mistake here," he said roughly, fumbling with the language a little. "If you will be so amenable as to let me out..."

But the muscular lizard dragged him off, as if he was just something to be moved about, leaving him struggling, though he wasn't strong enough to rip himself free of the anthro's grasp. He cursed under his breath and heaved -- but he wasn't the only one up there either.

"Ah -- Siren? What in heaven's name are you doing here?"

He used a term referring to religion so easily when it was not a part of his daily language and lexicon, though his acquaintance, Siren, groaned as he was bound to a slab, flat on his back.

Although Tyree was not exactly close to Siren, there was a friendship there, of a sort. More often than not, they were drinking buddies, though Siren's trade business was not doing as well as Tyree's was, though that could have been simply because Tyree's connections were stronger than Siren's. It wasn't something he thought all that much about.

Siren, however, was moderately muscled, a little more so than Tyree, with blonde hair that came down around his ears. He had always struck Tyree as a little more on the messy, unkempt side of things, though Tyree tried not to judge someone too harshly, especially when it came to outward appearances. Tyree had been bad at that when he'd been younger, but even he could grow, despite what some people said about him.

He had a smaller face than Tyree, almost babyish, as if he had not quite grown into his own body yet, though Tyree thought Siren was a year, maybe two, older than he was. Some people just took longer to mature like that, in their twenties, and find their style. With the eclectic mismatch of clothing that Siren was prone to wearing, however, that could end up taking longer than expected. As always, Siren was dressed with a brighter, sharper red jacket that cut off across his stomach, showing a bare strip of skin, despite the shirt beneath, and long trousers with a ragged yet flared bottom.

Yeah, Tyree didn't really get his sense of style. He was dressed far more smartly in a jacket with gold-tone buttons and a pressed collar, his trousers showing off the slender nature of his legs. He'd heard the lizard-folk there, in particular, liked slender legs like that, so he was just playing up what he had to work with there.

He blinked at Siren for a moment too long, however, his lower jaw slack without his lips actually parting. And that was enough for the lizard folk, generally very fit with obvious, defined muscle, to heave him over to another slab, though that one was tilted a little, so his head would end up a little higher than his feet. It was still troublesome and he complained as they bound him.

Ah, but it was Tyree's own fault for not seeing the trouble in his binding, in understanding there was something terrible at play that would change the course of his life forever. Perhaps he should have been keener to see the bigger picture...

"Look, let me go now and there won't be any trouble..." He went on, turning his head, trying to call over to an elf with rich, brown skin. "Good sir, come now -- now, come on. You know this is going to end badly for someone if you insist on proceeding with tying me up like this. My father will hear about this, but it will not do well for trade matters..."

They cast him a disparaging look, dark and chilling, that drew him up short, but only for a moment. He knew they understood them -- there was that flicker of understanding in their eyes, a twitch of the lips and a look up and down that spoke tales of what their lips would not.

Two elves approached both Tyree and Siren at the same time, though Tyree flinched and balled up his hands into fists at the sharp flash of a blade. Yet there was only a grunt on his lips as his clothes were cut from him, a long, draping loincloth there to replacing them.

The "schick" of the knife sent a ripple of fear through him, cold and chilling. It was a primal reaction, something that told him he was in danger, worry finally stirring in the pit of his stomach. He didn't want to acknowledge it, not even then, taking a deep breath and willing himself to stay still.

"Get...your hands..." He said through gritted teeth. "Away...from me."

The elf ignored him, though he was sure they knew what he was saying -- they had to! But they did not deign to communicate with him, their white hair tied back while the other elf took care of removing Siren's strange clothes from him.

Tyree trembled bodily as his vulnerability was exposed -- but only for a moment. That was something, at the very least, and he sighed faintly as the loincloth was whipped into place. Maybe it was something that they wanted to do so they could preserve the sanctity of the temple as a religious space, for they tied the loincloth around his waist before cutting away his underwear too. It left him feeling oddly chilled and exposed, while still technically being covered up.

"Please... Please, let me go! Don't do this to me!"

Siren wailed and Tyree rolled his eyes, puffing out his cheeks as he huffed shortly.

"Siren... Come on, they'll chant or something and they'll let us go," he tried to say, though it was not really in his nature to reassure anyone. "I've seen the displays, the festivals..."

Still, he could not say that in full confidence, as he did not know what they thought he'd done against them. In that matter, Tyree was well and truly in the dark, his arms bound with rough rope, the slab warming to the heat of his body, though it may as well have been a block of ice for how comfortable it was.

"Unff..."

Tyree clenched his jaw, shaking his head. No, he wouldn't complain, he'd be the man they all could not be, even with the afternoon sunshine streaming through the windows of the temple. Some of them were stained glass, casting colourful patterns across the floor. One of them was of a raptor in purple and blue, though it was rendered abstract in the design of the stained glass and how each individual piece of glass was connected to the next.

The altar rose before him and he took a breath, eyeing it up, though it was more foreboding than he had before given it credit for. The citizens swayed around him, murmuring words in a language he did not understand -- for he did not even think it was the predominant language of the city and wider kingdom. It flowed around him like music, but he could not relax into it, even though Tyree had a penchant for music and even played some string instruments for himself.

The altar loomed and his breath came shorter and more sharply in his throat as he watched the elves take Siren in hand, forcing his head back and pouring a thick, purple liquid down his throat. It clung to Siren's lips where it did not flow seamlessly into his mouth, and Siren coughed and gagged as he tried to take it down, fighting it the whole time.

Tyree might not have known what Siren was fighting, but he knew Siren was no fool either.

Stay calm. This is your only chance.

Bound to the upright slab before the altar, Tyree twisted, his arms spread on either side of his body, though they were hooked "up" slightly, bent at the elbows, as if he was trying to hold his palms out for something. It was not a natural position to be bound in, not in the slightest, and he case a frustrated yet stomach churning glare at his somewhat-friend. Sometimes, frustration was a safer option than facing the reality of the situation as the changing rose around them, like morning birdsong in the air, yet at a lower tenor.

Siren, bound to the other slab, whipped his head back and forth, a drooling gleam of saliva at the corner of his lips.

"Tyree... Tyree..." He groaned, his jaw slack and head lolling forward. "Nnngghh... Get me...out..."

Tyree scowled and shook his head, somehow feeling above it all, even then.

"And what do you think I can do to get you out of this?" He scoffed. "They're just trying to frighten us, the Pyroc peoples are not aggressive..."

At least, they hadn't been in his experience, though the twinge of unrest in his stomach was quickly squashed. He had to be bold, had to be strong, lashed there, his legs splayed wide, only that decrepit loincloth between his legs to maintain his modesty in any form.

He took a deep, steadying breath. Tyree had to. He shook his head disparagingly at Siren, looking down on him, even then. Siren was such a loose cannon, always prey to his emotions; but Tyree wasn't like that. He'd hold his head high, talk to whoever seemed to be in charge and get everything straightened out again. Most likely, he'd even get himself an apology and reparations for the wrongs done to him.

Yet that was wrong, so very wrong... He was wrong and Tyree was not used to be wrong, not as the throng of people gathered before the altar, filling the space, vines twisting around the columns as if part of the temple had already been reclaimed by nature. They had a deity there -- but Tyree had never looked into that one all that much. When he did not subscribe to a religion himself, it did not feel worth it to research what they worshipped.

Maybe Tyree should have done so. Maybe that would have stopped him from causing offence to the deity on the day of worship. Or maybe he would have found some other way to get himself into trouble.

Who could tell?

"What? No -- please! Please, don't! No -- gah!"

Siren heaved and tried to rip himself free of his bonds, yet he was tilted back, his head higher than his feet, desperation lacing every muscle in his body. Tyree was just about to tell him that there was nothing to worry about, that he was being a fool and he was going to get them out of there soon enough -- when everything changed.

An elf with a dark edge of liner around his eyes that made them look strikingly fierce muttered in his own language, too low for Tyree to catch -- and wrenched Siren's head back by his twist of blonde hair. Siren screeched, though there was barely a moment in which for either of them to react as the man's lips were forced open around the neck of a bottle. Forced to gulp it down, bright orange liquid drooled out from the corners of Siren's lips, his eyes wide and bulging, a gleam of moisture on his cheek that could have been tears. Not that Siren would ever get the chance to admit that.

Not as his body heaved and he gulped, the neck of the bottle taken from him. He whined and warbled, fingers twitching, though his words were lost in the slurring mess his voice box had become.

"Guuuhhh... Nnngghhh..."

"Siren? Siren, what's the matter with you?"

The elves and lizard-folk, among other anthros, chanted, linking hands and swaying back and forth. The language was one of religion, binding and bringing them together, regardless of their culture, learning or upbringing, and there was no way for Tyree to understand it, not even then. It would not have saved him anyway as a breeze licked at his bare chest and, once more, he strove to tug fruitlessly at his tight, rope bonds.

But Siren did not fight them -- not in any way that could have been considered conscious thought, after all. His olive skin lightened, strangely so, saliva bubbling and frothing at the corners of his lips. If Tyree had been able to recoil he would have done so -- though the moment was far too late to even think of running away.

Not as he was forced to watch, blinking too rapidly, his eyes dry, as something happened to Siren. The chanting wove and wound around him, though Tyree did not take it in, not as Siren's face bulged forward. His lips strained and stretched as if they had become softer and a lot more pliable than normal -- but what was pushing them out like that? Siren grunted and heaved, his jaws hanging open grotesquely wide, showing his teeth and the gaping darkness at the back of his throat.

"What the..."

Tyree whispered, not even able to complete the utterance, his throat tight with the clawing grip of fear. He hadn't really thought anything could happen, but the bubbling ripple and pull of Siren's skin over his body could not be denied.

It was like something was trying to claw its way out of him, pushing against his skin, but it was far worse than that. Especially as Siren's head lolled to the side, his chest swelling out into a rounder shape, narrowing and pressing in from the sides.

"Siren... Siren, are you..."

He tried to call out to him, he really did, even though he only knew Siren as a passing friend in that city. He didn't really know him, not on an intimate, close level, though perhaps that was his failing.

Siren let out a wet hiss as his body twitched and shuddered, pulling down and forward, away from the slab. It was as if all the energy he'd had in him was being drained, seeping away, moment by moment, his skin darkening again.

But it was not the same shade as before and Tyree stared at him, fascinated horror sinking deep. It was not as if he could go anywhere else, but his eyes kept going back to Siren, taking in how feathers sprouted from him in a blue and black sheen. It covered his nakedness, somewhat, though Tyree clamped his jaws shut as he bit down on his back teeth, a muscle jumping anxiously at the corner of his mouth.

It was the feathers that set his heart jumping, however, cold to his bones and heaving as if he was going to let the bile churning in his stomach loose. What did the feathers mean? What the hell was Siren turning into? Were they making him into some kind of monster...bird?

Tyree paled, but no one there noticed his fear, not as he swallowed hard, his lips gleaming with a delirious sheen of saliva. No one knew about his phobia of birds, yet he couldn't even get his breath to come evenly, taking short, sharp puffs of air, just doing all that he could to get oxygen into his lungs.

No, no, no... He stared, wide-eyed, horror gripping him. More feathers appeared, his vision going blurry, though he could barely even think of poor Siren, the one who was going through the horrendous transformation.

He strained at his bonds, fighting, heaving, his chest rising and falling more and more sharply. He couldn't do it, he wouldn't do it! Moisture pricked at the corners of his eyes from how viciously he was straining his eyes, yet no one paid him any mind and, of course, the bonds held fast, rope cutting raw and rough into his skin.

Hell...

It was not hell, but worse. Or some would have seen his fate as a blessing, depending on their perspective on life. It was not such to Tyree and Siren, not as Siren gargled and gagged, the loincloth falling aside as his shaft was exposed.

And it was there that Tyree's eyes landed, eyes bulging in horror at how Siren's penis shrank. Of course, he had no idea what size Siren's genitals had been before -- but he didn't have to know to see just how they pulled back up into his body. As the blue and black feathers swept down his body, covering his back and his hindquarters in bands of alternating shades, his genitals pressed back inside. It was quite as if unseen fingers were tucking them away, a softer sheen of grey feathers surrounding them, light and appearing almost fluffy like fur.

Some traitorous part of Tyree twitched, wanting to run his fingers through that thicker fluff of feathers, wanting to see if it felt as he thought it did. But it was an intrusive thought and not one that belonged in his head, not in the slightest, so he pushed it away. He would never have even wanted to touch feathers anyway, whether they were on a bird or something else. He still recalled, in vicious vividness, how that bird had attacked him, when he had been much, much younger, the flap of wings closing around his head.