Sorceress Isabella

She had trudged back in the snow, bitter and steaming. Her body had remained warm ever since the lightning had struck her and she seemed to be immune to the weather, but she had thrown on her coat over her torn dress just for propriety in the camp. Her stomach seemed to be doing somersaults in her belly, and her whole body ached. Her skin was also itchy as if her whole body had come out in a rash. Some of these things she put down to just an effect of her misery and anger. But she also knew what else she had wished for. Her body was to change into that which Prince Henry desired. That could be anything if the Geanee had played games.

The camp was awash in light from camp fires all around and through it. Guards milled about them, keeping warm. When she reached the camp she came upon a patrol of her own Kingdom's guards by the edge of the clearing. Nodding to them, she went to pass. However one held up his hand, stopping her. It was Derrick, the one who typically guarded the Queen's chamber. The other was Peter, his companion.

"What brings yah here peasant? You know not too - oh, Isabella?"

Derrick seemed confused as he gazed upon her.

"Yes, what is it Derrick?"

"Nothin' ma'am. Just you look - I didn't recognize yah that's all. Yah hair is it?"

Isabella narrowed her eyes. She reached up, grabbing a lock of her hair. It was bright red, almost the color of fire, brighter than any ginger she had ever seen. Her hair had changed color!

"Wha - yes! I dyed it. It's part of the ritual - of the treaty! Part of the treaty with the Logicians. Do you like it?"

"Why, I guess so ma'am. Different look for yah."

Peter nodded. "Aye it is different aye."

The second wish must have been taking effect! She needed a mirror. "Thank you, boys, but I really must be taking off. Late night, the Queen needs me."

"Aye ma'am. Keep yourself warm, it's a cold one tonight yah."

Isabella was still toasty warm, but nodded in thanks before walking off.

Her stomach felt awful now. Her bones were now a deep ache, as if she was battling a flu. Her pussy as well felt odd and tingly, while the plug in her ass which had long since disappeared from her thought for the last few hours now felt like every movement was both excruciating and arousing. Her nipples were painful and hard, and she felt like she had a headache. These must of all been the side effects of the wish. She hoped there wasn't anything worse about to happen.

As she strolled to her carriage, still carrying the tome to hide it in place, she saw Prince Henry's tent.

Unguarded.

She could walk right in.

No one could stop her.

She stopped there, in the clearing. A decision forming.

There was no guarantee she would have another shot like this. Her last two wishes had been specific: to have the body Prince Henry desired and to be fertile for him. It seemed to of happened or was in the process of happening. She could walk in now, reveal herself, and have him desire her flesh. If she waited, she may not get another chance for a while, and there was no guarantee now she'd ever learn to perform a love spell. Everything had gone wrong tonight. Perhaps this one chance was the Gods throwing her some luck?

The tent stood there, it's entrance calling her forth. With a quick glance around to make sure she was clear, Isabella walked forward having made her decision. Tonight was do or die. She would have her the Prince.

A sharp pain hit her gut out of nowhere as she crossed to the tent, nearly doubling her over. Her groin felt weird, cold, both slimy and sticky. She held her belly, feeling even between the fabric of her coat her stomach rumbling beneath it. Something was definitely wrong. But she was too far down the rabbit hole now. Hoping this illness was temporary, she held her arms across herself as she entered the unguarded tent. She stumbled through, the feeling of her guts falling out underneath her doing nothing to slow down her determination. She passed through a flap on the outside, which lead to a small atrium and another flap, keeping the warmth in and the cold out. A few coats were laying on a cushion, boots kicked off next to it. Two pairs. Must have been both the Princes; one to change into when the other was wet.

The Prince was beyond this last canvas flap. Unbeknownst waiting for her. Despite how sick she felt, Isabella decided to remove her clothes. There was light coming through the tent inside, Prince Henry must have some torches or a fire going. Excellent, it would allow him to see her better. After all, she was transforming into his desired dream. She decided to strip. There was no point in being coy now. This was her last chance. She threw off her coat onto the pile, and her tattered dress underneath. She saw now that her breasts had gained in weight. They were far fuller than they had ever been before, far larger than the pert little saucers she was accustomed too. That was nice.

She also felt definitely taller, a bit more fleshed out in the right areas too as she observed herself. She looked down at her stomach, which was like a wave of rippling flesh over and over again. It was like this uncomfortable cold pain, a stark contrast to her warm body which was impervious to the cold. Her skin still itched all over and was red from her scratching herself. She tried to resist the need but every now and then she still gave in and she checked herself over. She checked her groin. Nothing was amiss there only her normal folds of flesh. So much for becoming the Prince's ideal woman, she'd hardly changed...

Maybe that was it! Despite the superficial changing of her hair, being slightly taller or the enlarged breasts, she was pretty much still exactly the same. Maybe she had always been the Prince's ideal woman! Her heart skipped a beat of joy. There was no other explanation. The Prince must have been secretly in love with her and afraid to tell her how she truly felt! A warmth filled her heart, blotting out any coldness she currently felt in her gut. He loved her! He really did! On the verge of tears and bursting with love, she ran into the tent.

She couldn't process the image at first. She'd run in so happy, so full of hope, that to come down from such a high could not be immediate. She stopped a few steps from the bed, which took up most of the tent, smiling, her brain failing to catch up. Torches lined the middle of the tent, around the singular pole which kept the tent up, their flames safely away from the wood or canvas. The bed was currently occupied by the Prince. But Sir Michael as well. The Prince was on all fours on the bed, naked, beautiful. But so was Sir Michael, standing behind the Prince, his groin pressed against his rear.

He was pressed into Prince Henry. He'd been pressing into him over and over again.

Humping him.

... fucking him.

The two men were frozen at Isabella's entrance. Sir Michael gripped Prince Henry's hips. He'd stopped mid thrust. His chest was covered in red hair, his arms as well, almost like a ginger bear of muscle and man. Isabella realized this was the first time she had seen him naked. He was the opposite to Henry, stoic and buff compared to his lither figure.

And he had his cock in the Prince's ass.

Isabella couldn't comprehend it. The Prince. Sir Michael. She began to think it over and over again. Then she realized she'd been saying it. Prince Henry. Sir Michael. Prince Henry. Sire Michael. Prince...

As she stood there shocked, Sir Michael moved quick, withdrawing himself from Henry's rear. His phallus fell out, oiled and slick, and she saw it dwarfed Henry's by a good length and girth. The Prince winced at the exit from his ass before he scrambled over the bed, grabbing a sheet and wrapping it around his body. Sir Michael just stood there, naked and hairy, his cock bobbing into the warm air.

"I don't... I don't... your highness you... you're a..."

"What are you doing here!?" The Prince snapped. He was angry. Scared. No one must of known about this. "I TOLD EVERYONE I WAS NOT TO BE DISTURBED!"

"But... but... Sir Michael... he's a man!"

"Yes, I am."

"Not now Michael!" The Prince snapped. Michael glowered at him.

"She's seen us Henry. There's nothing we can do now."

"I will not have it come out like this. Not now."

Isabella felt weak. She fell to the floor on her knees. The men made no effort to help her. "But... my lord... you're too be married... you're meant to love... you love..."

"The marriage is still under negotiation." The Prince stepped forward to her, kneeling before her. "Who the hell are you? One of the Queen's handmaidens?"

Isabella was incredulous. "One of the queen's handmaidens? I'm... I'm to be your wife! You don't remember me? After all the times we've met?"

Henry groaned. "Oh for God's sake. You're Princess Erica? Fuck this is not how I wanted this to all come to light." He stood up, leaving Isabella, as he walked over to Michael. "Perhaps you'd better give us some time alone so I can talk to her. Explain the situation."

Isabella was frozen.

The Prince didn't even know who she was.

He didn't remember her.

He liked men.

Everything.

Everything was over.

"Perhaps not yet." Something whispered in her ear. She turned, ignoring the argument that seemed to be erupting between Henry and Michael, and looked for the new voice. She found no one else in the room.

"Your final wishes are about to come true." The voice again. Then she remembered where she had heard that voice before. Arreganol! "Brace yourself. Become who you were born to be. Not some lowly wife of a Prince. Become the sorceress you wished for!"

"You did this? You held it off, my wishes?"

"I thought perhaps it would help open your eyes. I am bound by what you desired, but in time you will learn and become what it is you wished for. Until we meet again Isabella."

Henry and Michael turned to face Isabella now as she groaned out. She was withering, still on her knees, but she was holding her stomach.

"What is it girl? I swear if you've come down with the plague..." Henry stopped short. A radiant heat seemed to be emanating now from the girl. Isabella could feel it now, the coldness giving way to a power, a strength she didn't know she possessed. She clutched her belly, breathing rapidly as it long last the wishes began to come true.

A cock sprang forth from between her legs. Springing forth from where her clit used to be, it shot out and up and sprayed a wicked load of cum in an arc as it reached it's zenith. Without even taking the time to look at it Isabella knew it was identical to Sir Michael's. Red hair now began to grow on her legs, her arms, and her belly. Her pubic hair as well grew in soft curls, the same as Sir Michael's. That had been the source of itching on her skin, this new found fur that even now sprouted from her armpits. A deep thick treasure trail ran from her belly button to her slit, where her cock held sway above it. Two testicles dropped from underneath it, heavy and full, tense around her sack. She would of given Victori a run for her money now with her package.

Isabella knew she wasn't done yet. The two men just stood there, flabbergasted as the final transformation took place. And here it came.

Isabella's belly began to grow. It was slow but steady, moving from a slight bloat to a mound, too looking like she had swallowed a melon. It grew and grew, bursting forwards, Isabella holding her sides. There was no pain, there was no pleasure, it was just something her body needed to do. She surpassed the size Victori had reached when she had been with child and still Isabella continued to grow. Her belly was humongous. She'd already lost sight of her new cock, hidden away underneath her gravid dome. Her belly button popped out. There were no stretch marks on her. Just a beautiful pregnant belly. Finally she stopped when she looked like she was carrying at least two children within her, the most fertile woman Isabella had ever seen.

She sat there, embracing her new form. She looked herself over. Her bright red hair was longer now, draped all over her body. She features were strong, arms and shoulders defined and muscular, while her ass appeared to be supple but firm. Her tits were larger again, actual melon sized, which compared favorably with her large belly. A byproduct of the fertility she had wished for. Her ballsack rested comfortably against her moist slit, while her cock was erect and perched underneath the dome of her belly. She could feel it oozing precum even now. Her arms were now covered in a slight sheen of red hair, while her legs were thick and rivaling a man's. With her body now somewhere between the most fertile woman in existence and the strength of a knight, she represented the best of both worlds. And boy did she feel it.

Sir Michael, his wits now regaining themselves, grabbed his scabbard by the bed and drew his sword. He pushed Henry behind him as he leveled it at Isabella.

She stood now. At her full height she was as tall as Michael. Of course. She ran her hands over her belly. She felt awkward, off balance, but she believed over time she could get used to this new form. After all, she was a sorceress.

"Oh!" She exclaimed. Henry and Michael took another step back, wary of the woman who had just transformed into a pregnant, fecund creature with a cock before their eyes. Isabella rubbed her belly in excitement.

"I just felt them kick! Yep, there they are." She pressed on both sides, nodding. "Two. Two babies. A boy and a girl I'd say." She giggled happy to herself.

Henry was the first to break Isabella's reprieve.

"What are you?"

Isabella looked up. She felt powerful now. Full of purpose. Full of life. This pathetic insect before her may have been the reason for her transformation. But he certainly was not going to be around for the rest of her life.

"Why I'm a sorceress. You can call me Mistress Isabella."

X x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

It was to be called the night of the fiery moon.

Both Kingdoms of Koralin and the Empire of Logicia in one fell swoop fell into oblivion.

A fire, unlike that which had ever been seen by any man, in the middle of a snow storm, swept through the forest. It hit the camps of both parties in an instant. Some say it was started by one side or the other, some believe it was magic or the Gods themselves. No matter who or what it was, ruin fell upon the camp that night. Prince Henry, heir apparent to the throne, was killed, the fire engulfing his body. His honorable and best friend Sir Michael fell with him, trying to rescue him to the last. Queen Skye and King Horace fell in the blaze, as did many loyal Knights, and their bodies were never recovered.

Only Queen Victori escaped with her loyal handmaiden Margaret and a small retinue of soldiers. Victori was said to cry out for a day for her other handmaiden, demanding she be found alongside the royal family, but her body was also lost to ash.

In the years that followed Queen Victori would act as Regent until her son came of age. For years she struggled amongst the petty empires surrounding her until eventually luck favored her and fortune became hers. She would become known for her wise and candid council and became the most respected Queen to ever rule over Koralin. Few knew she would be visited occasionally by a beautiful woman with red hair in a robe, seen to be offering wisdom when needed. She remained a loyal friend of the Queen's until the Prince became the King on his 18th birthday, where the red woman disappeared and was never seen in the court again.

The End... for now...