Royal Blood

This story had gender feels, some magical lust/corruption stuff, lots of stuff about breeding, and all that good stuff. Heads up: there is a single drop of blood shed for demon summoning. Likely not a huge deal, but it squicks some people out so heads up

Please enjoy!

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The rectangular slice of stone wall slid down on its shuddering rails, and all Prince Terrence Hearthfire, heir to the Tarnished Throne, could say over the clank of gears was:

"Y'know, I was expecting something a little more magical?"

The only other occupant of the corridor turned a side-eye down to him. The prince's cavorting around abandoned areas of the castle could not be unsupervised, which meant that his personal bodyguard had to leave his nice game of cards with the boys to watch a secret door slowly lower into the floor, like the coffin

"Did you expect a portal to form in the hallway behind the castle's cheese cellar?" Colt Anders asked in his gruff voice. Standing a good foot taller than the heir, they were nevertheless around the same age. But where the Prince's life had been filled with cushions and elocution and economics lessons, Colt had gotten his sword arm and danger sense honed in the crucible of mercenary service. Settling down for a more or less permanent gig at the ripe old age of 25, he was ready to have this be his retirement post. And to do that, "Terry" (he refused to be addressed as anything else by his guards) had to survive.

Which, if he insisted on going on mad escapades like the one he was currently on, would be an arduous task indeed.

"A mechanical hidden door is fine and all, but if we're going to be uncovering arcane secrets, I would enjoy a little..." he paused to his smooth, uncallused fingers like a sleight-of-hand master trying to save a botched trick, "Showmanship?"

Colt shook his head derisively. The prince wasn't wearing appropriate gear for leaving the castle, let alone traipsing around in the fucking dark. Wearing a scarlet and ultramarine doublet and trousers, he wouldn't look out of place in his study or lounging around in bed. Not even his hair was worn right for treading into danger. Not for the first time, Colt thought Prince Terrence could really use some discipline in his life. It was youthful caprice now, but in ten years he'd be king, and all his whims would have the force of law.

The door hadn't even lowered all the way before Terry charged off into the dark. Colt called after him, reaching out but only managing to run his fingers through the prince's silky smooth long blond hair. He grumbled. If Colt had been an assailant, he could have grabbed it and yanked him back and bent him over and-

He caught himself. Several times recently he'd had inappropriate thoughts about his charge, things that ventured far from his duties as a guardian. Shaking the momentary lapse off, he instead grabbed a torch from the sconce on the wall, and made his way down stone steps into the dark.

"What did you say this place was used for again?" Colt asked, mostly to keep track of the prince by sound if not by sight.

"One of my forefathers, Gerald the Shortsighted, had an arcane study somewhere in the castle and I've never been able to figure out where. That is, until on my 25th nameday, when I inherited some of the kingdom's relics as typically bequeathed to the heir. Including," he halted to mimic the sound of a triumphant trumpet, "Gerald's personal diary! Now, a lot of it is in code, but I was able to piece some of the earlier parts together. Mostly about his dabblings with sorcery AND including a particular pact he made with eldritch forces. See he inherited some artefacts from-"

Colt held up a hand. "Alright, alright, I already regret asking."

Sweeping the torch back and forth, the room came into view. It had once been a truly impressive place, most likely. A row of chains hanging from the ceiling had likely once held light sources, though they were nowhere in sight now. Large bookcases rivaling those in the study sat mostly empty, some collapsing under the weight of a few musty tomes that had long since rotted in the damp. Huge desks made of solid wood sat in the centre with glass beakers and vials that had clouded over, their contents evaporated or otherwise consumed by the passage of time.

The prince stood at the foot of the stairs, looking around in crestfallen disappointment. "I...well this is not what I'd imagined."

"It's been what? 150 years since Gerald was king? What exactly did you imagine?"

"But it has to be here! There's no other place. I've checked the castle up and down, all the signs point to this being where he kept it but..." He trailed off, mouth forming words but not giving them voice.

Colt put a hand on his charge's shoulder. "What exactly are you looking for? Maybe I can help?" Terry swallowed and nodded, a little steel returning to his spine.

"We'll be looking for an item with some kind of sigil or marking. The diary mentions a pact he made with a demon. Well he calls it a 'comely spectre of the night' but I can put two and two together. Anyways, apparently, in exchange for freeing it, it agreed to grant one wish to him and any of his descendants."

"Hold on...you want to consort with demons?" Colt asked, dumfounded.

"Oh it's perfectly safe. I didn't make the pact, it was my ancestor! One of the greatest maguses of his age. The risks are...well, the risks are probably worth it."

Colt was suddenly glad he'd put on his sword belt. The comfortable and familiar grip of the leather-wrapped hilt in his hand serving as a placebic ward against the potential of supernatural threat. "And what need do you have that's so great as to take those risks?"

Terry harrumphed, throwing up his hands. "Because I can't be king if I can't sire and heir. And...and I can't...right now." He went back to searching, not waiting for a reply.

"Oh." Colt's cheeks turned just a hint redder than normal. "Have you, uh, tried with a woman yet?"

"Yes, yes, with several. But while they've all been very kind and understanding, my body does not cooperate when it comes time to...start. And the kingdom will not stand if its master cannot get the one job I have done."

Colt's eyebrows raised. "Really? Not even Princess Andrasta? Or that Countess? The one with the large...gold reserves?"

The prince rolled his eyes. "Oh there's plenty of choices out there, but I can't find a single princess who is INTERESTING. All the women of my station are all about fashion, and singing, and stories about brave knights coming to plow them silly."

Colt snorted. "I think I'd rather like that last bit."

"Oh I'm sure you do. I've no doubt many broad-chested ladies have fallen into your lap over the years. What with your incredible physique and strong, masculine features and..." He lost his train of thought as he looked up to the much larger man. Tall even by mercenary standards and as muscular as needs be to regularly wear plate armour in training and sparring sessions, Colt could have been a marble statue outside an ancient arena.

Just after it got awkward, Prince Terry's gaze snapped back to the stone tiles in front of them. They'd had discussions about his 'cravings' for more substantive meats than those provided by the fairer sex. It was inappropriate for the heir, due to his obligations. Once the marriage had been consummated, Terry could go absolutely wild on as many courtesans and courtiers as he wanted. But until then, his appetites had to be focused. Colt noted absently that if he had to go to such lengths to put a baby in a bride, maybe the divine right of kings had some holes in it.

They scoured the room, searching top to bottom for any item that had been missed. All they found was damp, and dank, and spiderwebs. Just as they were about to give up, Colt spotted a curved line beginning and ending at the edge of the desk in the centre of the room. On a whim, he handed the torch to Terry and lifted the wooden furniture up off the ground. His powerful corded muscles strained at the task.

"Gods above!" the prince exclaimed, holding the torch to the floor. Protected from the decay of the rest of the room by the heavy wood, the flickering light revealed a circle inscribed with angular runes.

"What is it?"

"It's a summoning circle. I was a fool, I was looking for some kind of casting stone or grimoire. This is much more practical, and likely to hold over the decades. Quick, help me uncover the rest of it!"

Colt complied, as his oath dictated, but his heart's disquiet would not go away. He was by no means a Prior's Boy, but cavorting with demonic influences was like Day One Restday School stuff. Question: should you make deals with demons? Answer: No.

One by one the pieces of furniture were hauled out the way, revealing the sigiled circle in all its ominous glory. He swore that in spite of the damp chill of the room, the temperature lifted a few measures.

"Now all we have to do is summon it," Terry said. "Can I borrow your sword?"

Colt raised a brow. "'For what purpose?"

"Only royal blood can summon this demon. I need to bleed a bit."

"Sorry, won't happen," Colt replied, folding his arms.

"What if it was an order?" the prince ventured, putting a little of his father's tone of cold authority into his voice.

"I...would still be reluctant. Using my blade to shed your blood is against the literal verbiage of the oath I took to protect you."

"Well, okay. To preserve your precious honour: I command you to hold your sword out directly over the seal. As rigidly as possible! Consider this an impromptu blade-sharpness test."

Unable to think of an excuse to get out from this one, Colt complied. One squeak later and the prince had opened a tiny nick in his thumb, allowing a single droplet of blood to fall onto the edge of the seal.

In a flash the white circle became a sickening crimson. The castle shook as if gripped by an angry god, and it was all the pair could do to keep upright. The sigils flashed in sequential order. Slowly at first, then with building speed. Unconsciously, Colt began reciting the Hymn of Deliverance, bringing his sword into guard position and pushing himself in between the circle and the Prince.

The flashing icons wound and wound, faster and faster, until they all blurred together into a single glowing aura. The ground underneath opened up, and from the depths of the abyss, a shape took form.

Colt didn't know what he expected from a demon but it certainly wasn't this.

Standing maybe four feet high, she sported voluptuous curves that her wisp of a dress didn't so much suggest as actively spoil. Soft magenta skin and raven black hair glistened as if fresh from bathing in a waterfall. Dark circles under her eyes and dark lips gave her a sinister, almost deathly expression, but the burning hot embers she had for eyes made it clear that she was very much among the living...if not among the mortal.

"Who's bringing me out of my vacation? I only get two days off a century and-" The demoness cut herself off abruptly. She cocked her head up like a predator and sniffed the air. A long, glistening tongue danced along her midnight lips. "Mmm...fresh blood has been shed. Might I surmise one of you is a member of the Hearthfire royal line?"

Terry stepped out from behind Colt, and the bodyguard had to fight the urge to shove the silly little prince back to safety.

"It is I. My name is Prince Terrence Hearthfire, heir to the throne, and I have come to petition you to honour the deal you made with my ancestor Gerald Hearthfire, Second of His Name."

The laugh she offered up could have cut boiled leather. "Oh Gerry, we had ever so much fun. Did he tell anyone what he asked for? Did he tell anyone what the world was like before his wish?" She tittered again, laughing at her own private joke as the pair of men exchanged glances.

"I...I know not of what you speak of, Infernal Specter. But I ask again: do you intend to honour the pact?" The prince muttered something low and quick under his breath, and the hand that he'd cut upon Colt's sword reached out to grasp something invisible. A pair of translucent purple chains appeared in his fists, ones that lead back to the wrists of the demon. She rolled her eyes and waved him away like a lord dismissing a servant. He opened his hand, and the chains returned to invisibility.

"You don't need to lash me, I'm well aware of the yoke. Very well, Terrence, you'd need but ask." Her eyes drifted from the prince to his bodyguard, whose knuckles were turning white around the grip of his sword. "But who's this, I wonder? A hireling to keep you safe from little old me?"

"Colt," he replied, "Oathbound to the prince's service. And what would your name be, demon?"

She sucked in her teeth, tsking away with a matching waggle of her finger like a disapproving schoolmarm. "Names have power when I come from. You can call me Kandice. But if you're not a party to this agreement, kindly step aside so that the adults can talk."

"My Prince," Colt began, ready to restate his opposition to this disastrous plan.

"I have this under control, Colt. She's bound to her promise, and she can't leave the bounds of the summoning circle." Terry said, indicating the glowing runes at her feet. Indeed, the creature had not stepped outside or attempted to flee. Colt fumed and searched for another way to phrase his argument, but at a reproachful look from Terry, he took a few steps back. Not so far that he couldn't lunge to pierce the beast's black heart if need be, however.

Now that the moment of truth was upon him, the previously headstrong prince dithered. "So...how does is work, exactly?"

Kandice spanned her fingers and a quill, parchment, and spectacles appeared out of a puff of smoke. She picked up the pen, donned the glasses, then turned to Terry.

"I take your order now. Remember, this is but a single wish for the rest of your days, so you'd better make it count."

He nodded. Setting his back straight and taking in a deep breath, he looked the demon in the eye and spoke with the intention of forcing his will into reality.

"I hereby wish for you to use your powers to make me virile, fertile, and thoroughly attracted to the opposite sex. This I command with all the authority my station affords me!"

Colt played cards religiously with some of the other men at arms in the castle. You got a decent exposure to the gamut of facial expressions. Triumph, despair, fear, joy. Of course experienced players try to hide these tells to keep the nature of their hand concealed. But if one plays games long enough, you can detect these emotions. And none are so important to parse for a card player as the look of an opponent trying to hide that they'd just got the card that'll win them the game.

Kandice now wore that expression. She finished jotting down the instruction, vanished the pen and glasses, and barely contained the enthusiasm in her voice as she spoke.

"So you want to be fertile, huh? That can certainly be arranged." She punctuated her words with a snap of her fingers. Terry doubled over, dropping to one knee, then both. He pawed at his stomach impotently as strange auras of energy played about his body. Colt snapped into action, unsheathing his sword and raising it to strike a killing blow.

"Unhand him demon or so help me I'll cleave you in twain!"

She shook her head. "Not with steel you won't. But hush, the spell is already in motion. All either of us can do is watch and enjoy~"

Terry raised his hand. "Stay your blade, Colt. This is what is supposed to be happening...I can already...oh gods..."

The prince fumbled with the laces of his breeches, causing Colt to avert his eyes. But the strange energies coalesced there, around the prince's waist, and perhaps his curiosity won out over his propriety.

His royal highness' cock was not unlike the countless others he'd seen in his life. Of course, the fact that he was hairless down there, shaved down to the stubble, was somewhat unusual. It gave Colt a clear view of the strange magic lights that dances and flowed like string made of water, sliding and caressing his sensitive flesh. Terry moaned at the touch, his sceptre stiffening from the magic ministrations.

"I can feel it...I can...ngh~" he cried out, hips bucking as the first shot of seed leapt out onto the floor. Colt had to suppress a laugh at that. If the prince's problem was a lack of reaction, perhaps this magic was going in the exact opposite direction.

"Yes! Yes!" he chanted, enraptured at his own carnal display. He was so lost in the afterglow that it took a moment to notice that his cock wasn't just going limp, it was shrinking. Each twitch of his prick sent another dollop of wasted cum into the air, and lost him another half inch. In a minute he was down to almost half his original size.

"I hope you enjoyed that one," Kandice purred, "Cuz it'll probably be your last with that organ."

Before he could respond to that, Terry seized up. He writhed and bucked, and Colt watched in a mix of fascination and horror as the prince's shaft disappeared into his body. In its place, an unmistakable cleft began to form.

"You're turning him into a woman!"

She rolled her eyes. "Well I mean if Terry wants to be one that's their business. I'm just fulfilling my part of the deal through, perhaps, some creative interpretation of their words." The demoness poked the paper she'd written on and three words appeared in magical light above her.

Virile

Fertile

Attracted

"Well you'll certainly be virile," she began, checking it off theatrically. "You won't be able to think of anything besides performing your royal duties. Fertile? Your body is being made into the perfect heir-production factory. And as for being attracted to the 'opposite sex', well, that's just careless wording."

"Back to the Pit with you, devil!" Colt said, lashing out with his blade with the speed of constant practice. The moment it connected with her body, the tempered steel shattered into a thousand pieces. He stared at the jagged hilt, jaw agape, leaving Kandice to giggle at his expense.

"Oh you silly, silly boys," she said, striding confidently outside the bounds of the summoning circle, "Granting your wish released me from your thrall. Your ancestor was an Ninth Level Magus and I still had him screaming my name. What hope did you two have to contain me?" With a wave of her hand, a solid wall of force blasted Colt from his feet and through the air. But instead of slamming hard into the wall, he impacted onto some kind of sticky substance. Pink magical webbing adhered to his limbs. It glowed with the light of infernal magic, pulsing with power as he struggled to free himself. As he pulled, the webs grew stronger. They also ate through his clothes like a potent corrosive agent, and soon leather and wool slid to the ground in ragged tatters. The magic webbing did not scald his flesh, however. He could only wonder what twisted plan she had in store.

The transformations hadn't stopped for Terry. If anything, they'd accelerated. His elegant doublet popped at the seams as two orbs pushed out from his chest. He gasped, cupping them as they emerged, but even his voice took on a feminine register. Hips and thighs widened, waist and shoulders shrunk, until there was nothing separating Terry from most of the women in the castle. The only hint of something else was a slightly pronounced bulge beneath the clitoral hood; a slight suggestion that it had once been something more.

Despite the breadth of Terry's transformation, there was none of the shock or outrage that Colt would have thought there ought to be in his charge's eyes. There was surprise, certainly. But as his now slender hands roamed his body, Terry looked anything but tormented. Far from it! Terry looked...