The Prince's Potion Ch. 01

He considered a hypnosis spell to use on her, and have her help alleviate the intense displeasure between his legs. But there was some risk involved in this if she knew what was going on. Her dogs were right outside the door as well.

'Is everything alright, wizard?' the queen suddenly asked, noticing Tustin was obviously in some kind of discomfort.

'Of course, majesty,' he said, 'My apologies. The hour is late and I am an old man. This is dire news to be sure; much must be done and I had... hoped to find a cure before the king's condition worsened. But that time is passed and you speak only the truth. We must act now and secure Rodmond on the throne before any more chaos ensues. Stability is what is needed and we will see to it. Together.'

'Excellent,' she said, 'I knew you would understand. We'll need to administer the potion tonight, naturally.'

'Potion, your majesty? Tonight?'

'Yes, it will need to be one of your strongest, to be sure.'

Despite his impaired state, Tustin could see what the queen was getting at. She had clearly thought this out. The boy was small for age and sickly at that. The royal blood was pure but his body was weak and had received few benefits from the inbreeding of his mother and grandfather, the recently deceased king, beyond the royal linage itself.

Tustin figured the boy would need an extra strong potion to increase his stamina and present an air of confidence in such times. It might last a day or so. This would be a difficult task, not an easy concoction to whip up on the fly. He supposed he could make enough for a few days perhaps. Even still, it would take a very powerful spell and then some to get that boy to stay put on the throne. It's a wonder Little Roddy has made it this long, Tustin thought.

Prince Rodmond was tall for his age but permanently hunched over on himself. Bedridden for the last year, he was an avid reader and frequently lost in such books or his own thoughts. Handsome but with features far too pronounced on such a thin and frail body. A big nose, big lips, too boney and thin, deep green eyes against pale white skin that was often blotched with crimson from some malady or another.

They had long kept him isolated in the southern tower since the start of the plague, in fear that the sickly boy wouldn't last a night against such a vile disease. Now it seemed the future of the kingdom rested on his malformed shoulders. And the queen was demanding results tonight to turn him into a man!

All the while Tustin wrestled with this damned magic erection. Was there no end to his suffering? His old balls had never felt heavier and pained him greatly as he sat facing the busty queen. If only she had arrived but a few minutes later he might have been able to finish inside her daughter and be rid of this infernal thing.

The thought of dumping another massive load in her little snatch made it throb again. He loved finishing inside her. Oh, he had no fear of impregnating her; the serum she took regularly prevented such complications. This reminded him he must make more soon. The girl just had taken the last of it. There was so much to do and so little time.

'Yes, I shall need your aid tonight, wizard.' the queen rose, called for her guards.

'Tonight, you majesty?'

'Naturally,' she said, studying the diminutive man huddled on his chair, 'we must act quickly and there must be no mistakes. Rodmond cannot be seen as anything but a capable ruler tomorrow. If word were to get out that Trevilan was now in the hands of a sickly child-king and the kingdom still beset by the pox, our allies would turn on us in a heartbeat. Our natural resources would be plundered. Our citizens... my daughters...' she sniveled.

'I understand completely, your majesty,' Tustin motioned for the door with a wave of his both boney hands and it opened. 'Leave it to me. I shall have the remedy for him this very night.'

'Good. You have one hour, wizard,' she said. 'Guards, stay with him and bring him to my son's chamber as soon as the potion is ready. There will be no rest until we have a crown on that boy's head.'

***

Less than an hour later, Queen Marzanna and the wizard Tustin stood before her son Rodmond's bed where the boy was sleeping peacefully.

Tustin had seemingly delivered on his part and was holding the glowing red bottle in both hands. The otherworldly chrism had been thrown together in some haste but Tustin felt that it would do for the time being, providing the king-to-be with the necessary vigor to stand through the funeral and his coronation at least.

Several different mixtures had gone into creating this potion and, in his haste, he had done some best estimates, rough guesses, and patchy wizarding. Though he was fairly confidant the boy would be noticeably more upright than what was typically seen of him. Upon drinking all of it, of course.

The ancient wizard was visibly shaking now and sweating profusely. Anyone could see that he was doing all that he could to maintain standing, including the two big guards who had briskly walked him up the tower, and Tustin had barely held on to the hefty bottle with both hands all the while.

Even the Queen could see it from a mile away; the old man was clearly not doing well. He was also, she couldn't help but observe, sporting an obscenely large tent in his robes. The massive thing jutted out astonishingly far and, even though he was characteristically always hunched over on himself, the massive thing was almost impressive to look upon for how upright it was.

Were the absurdly large boner to be found on someone younger and less decrepit than the wizard himself, Marzanna would have been flattered. Still, she could not help but be taken back by the size of the member, even underneath his heavy robes. Had that always been there, she wondered, and just who had the old man been fucking before she had entered his chamber?

'We must wake him to... administer the potion, your majesty,' Tustin wheezed, 'and it is vital that he consumes every drop of this bottle. I cannot... guarantee how long it will last, but this should provide him with enough strength to make it through the hasty coronation you've put together.'

'Yes, well...' the queen shook her head, tore herself from the tented robes, 'proceed then, wizard.'

'Erm... you are his mother, majesty,' the wizard rasped, holding out the glass bottle, 'it should be you... who administers it.'

Marzanna met his gaze. 'Of course... you are right,' she said, hesitantly taking it from his skeletal fingers. She soon approached her son, still sleeping, and lay beside him. Gently, she tried to stir him awake.

The prince woke after a while. His head rested against the queen's enormous expanse of warm cleavage. It was the first thing Rodmond saw as he opened his eyes. 'M-Mother?' the boy croaked, nuzzling against her big boobs.

'I'm here, my baby,' she whispered to him, rubbing his face with her palm, 'mommy needs... needs you to be strong now.'

'What's the matter, mother? Why is he here? What is going on?' he continued to rub his face against the warm cushion of fabric around her tits.

Marzanna held him close, ran her long fingers through his hair. She fought back the tears once again. 'Mommy needs you to be so strong for her, baby boy. Something terrible has happened... and the kingdom needs you.'

'What? What are you - is this a dream?'

'It is no dream, child. Your father... your father has succumbed to the pox. He is dead, my son. You are to be king.'

'Father... dead? I am to be... King?'

'Yes, my son,' she continued to stroke his hair, watching his face search hers. She held him close against her warm bosom. 'The kingdom needs you, Rodmond. Will you rise now and take up your father's sword? Wear your father's crown? Will you be the king Trevilan needs, my son?'

'Mother... I am so tired. I want to be a good king, but i feel so weak. I can barely stand, cannot push these blankets off by myself. Where is Wengigia?' he looked around for his nurse.

'Oh, my son, yes... you are weak. But mother has thought of everything. All you need do is but drink this potion... which Tustin has created and strength, great strength, needed to rule this land, will be yours. Do you have the power to do that much, my son?'

'Mother... will you help me?'

'Of course,' she said, and brought the glowing bottle up to his wet lips. She watched as he drank and guided him, even as he struggled to take it all down. Two small drops fell unnoticed onto the queen's heaving breasts.

Soon enough the bottle was completely empty.

'It is done,' she purred, 'soon... you will feel the effects, is that not right, Tustin?' Both queen and prince looked to the wizard and saw him keeled over on the floor. 'Oh no,' the queen cried, rising to her feet, 'what has happened? Guards!'

Ser Blant and his attendants were inside the room seconds later. Upon inspecting the wizard's body, they determined he was quite dead. Though oddly enough it seemed other parts of him were still turgid with life.

Queen Marzanna sank back on the bed and was filled with an overwhelming sense of dread at having lost their only wizard.

'Mother,' a voice said heard from behind her. She turned to face her son who had miraculously risen from his bed and stood before her, up right and proud. The potion had worked!

Perhaps there was hope for Trevilan yet.

***

By mid-morning, the royal funeral was well under way and, shortly following it, the grand coronation of King Rodmond. Due to the ongoing plague that still ravaged castle and surrounding country, few were permitted within the immense keep and Trevilan nobility maintained strict social distancing all the while.

Official ambassadors from the neighboring kingdoms were present, though donned in heavy robes and concealed in pointed face masks. It was a dull and black affair, one which Queen Marzanna was anxious to get over with. The one shining beacon of hope from the entire sad day was that of her son, who, like the phoenix born again from the ashes, had risen up from his sick bed to own the role that he was born to inherit.

King Rodmond stood tall and looked every bit the lord of the land, draped in the green gold garments of a ruler. The royal guard stood beside him while priests and advisors bestowed upon him the sacred scepter and crown of the kingdom. Rodmond took the entire process with a solemn disposition. He looked as though, in spite of his newfound strength and resilience, he carried the full weight of what was being passed on to him today.

Dowager Queen Marzanna stood next to her daughters; all cloaked in long black dresses of mourning, and could only stare in awe of what had transpired. Her formerly meek son had been a bed-bound invalid less than a day ago. Now he towered above her, standing confidently next to his father's throne, wearing his crown, and holding his scepter.

She looked at the boy whom she had for so long thought so little of, not from lack of love, but because of his condition. They had all hoped that he would someday overcome his frailty and assume a healthier... manlier disposition with age but, well, to be thrust into the role so suddenly, even from the aid of the wizard's dark magics, cast her son in a whole new light.

She was proud of him, proud of herself, for doing what needed to be done. And I will continue to do what needs to be done, she told herself, no matter the cost, in order to save this kingdom.

'What was that, mother?' Princess Maymon asked. Her oldest daughter stood to her left and on the other side, Rodmond's twin sister, Gilly.

'Hmm? Oh nothing. I suppose I'm just astonished at your brother's transformation, that's all.'

'Yes,' Maymon nodded, 'most incredible. It must have been a powerful spell indeed to do so much... so quickly.'

'Our need was great,' the queen said, 'Tustin understood that.'

'Oh yes, he understood great needs all too well,' May murmured, still feeling the soreness between her legs.

'How so?'

Maymon flustered. 'I simply meant... that he rose to the occasion, and delivered on his promise to you, of course. He was a wise wizard... and an excellent teacher. If only he had lived longer. I still have so much to learn. I hope Rodmond's potion isn't too difficult to replicate.'

'Replicate?'

'Why yes,' May turned from the procession and faced her veiled mother, 'we cannot assume it to hold such potency in Rodmond... forever, can we? The potion may get him through the day... but like all magics, it will wane and he will surely be bed bound once again.'

'Don't be too sure, daughter,' the queen explained, 'I impressed upon the wizard to create something extra special for the prince... er, the king. Our need was great, and therefore a great spell was needed. I suspect he put much into whatever it was he gave Roddy.'

'We shall see,' Maymon said, 'and have we determined what in fact was the wizard's... cause of death?'

'Tustin?' Marzanna lowered her head to quickly hid a smile at the thought, 'well, it's rather embarrassing, to be quite honest. For such a man his age...'

'Embarrassing, mother? Who can say how old the wizard truly was, anyway... I doubt it was anything more than failure of the heart, surely?'

Marzanna faced her daughter, studied her. 'I am told by our physicians that it was a prolonged strain on his system... from maintaining a...' she held an outstretched finger to her face and Maymon seemed to immediately catch her meaning, '... for far too long. Longer than his heart could take,' she said. 'The old goat still had some fire in him, it seemed. Even in death.'

Maymon smiled back at her mother but couldn't help feel sorry for her old teacher. Perhaps if he had been able to finish inside her last night he might still be alive. Oh well, hopefully there was enough material in his writings and those great tomes in his chamber to conclude what training remained for her before she went to the academy next year. 'It is a heavy blow for Trevalin, to lose both its king and court wizard in the same night.'

'The losses are great, indeed. We also lost several countrymen to the plague last night. Rodmond will need to be strong to see us through this. I have sent for all advisors to return to the castle and begin his education in earnest.'

'Good idea,' Maymon said, 'I'll root around Tustin's chamber for anything related to the potion he created.'

'Please do so,' the queen agreed, 'and meet me in your brother's chambers tonight after dinner, we'll have to access his condition.'

***

That night, after all the somber celebrations had concluded, Queen Marzanna stood with her son inside his chambers. The young man, still draped in finery and wearing his father's crown, looked every bit the king. He bore no resemblance to the bedridden boy from earlier that morning.

'You have done well, my son.'

'I did everything you have asked, mother... all in service to Trevilan,' he said, gazing at her.

Marzanna wanted to cry. She was so happy to hear him speak those words. 'I can't tell you how good that makes me feel, Rodmond. You have made your mother... and your father, so very proud of you today.'

'Mother,' Rodmond whispered, moving to her and taking her in his arms.

After all these years of needing help with even the simplest of tasks, to hold his mother like this, after such a momentous yet sad day, was like a dream come true. His noble mother, prim and proper to a fault, had always been so strong around him. She was his entire world. To hold her like this, to look down upon her now, he saw her in a new light.

He saw her as a woman. A very attractive woman.

Something was stirring in him now, something he had never felt... in such intensity. Rodmond held both her hands, felt her cold fingers in his and regarded her beautiful face. Those ageless high cheekbones and rosebud lips. He took in her scent, studied her porcelain skin, framed by their family's notable thick black hair. It hung long and down past her shoulders now. She met his gaze.

Then he thought he caught something else in her eyes, beyond love, beyond the tears she held back. Was there... desire behind those emerald eyes as well? Lust? Where was this feeling coming from?

He couldn't help but notice her deep cleavage. Those magnificent breasts framed so perfectly by her low cut dress, fighting to be contained by the intricate lace work. Gobles of white flesh spilled out above it and heaved with every breath she took. Those big matronly breasts had ever been a staple of her image, her dominatingly full-figure. Now he felt himself lusting for it, for her, in a way that he had never considered before.

Her curves continued down and it was all he could do not to take her in. Wanting desperately to know what was underneath that beautiful dress. This was his mother and for whatever reason all he could think of was to kiss her. To press his lips against hers.

What else did he want? Take her, ravage her, and ensure that the family line continued by breeding her. Where on earth were these thoughts coming from? Had they always been there and were suppressed until... until the wizard's potion had taken full effect? Was that what was doing all this? Creating all these strange emotions in him now? Was he meant to act on them as he had done earlier today in becoming king? How far was he meant to step into his father's shoes?

'Son, are you alright?' he heard his mother ask, but her voice sounded so small and distant to him now.

'Mother?' he wobbled.

'I am here, my son,' her grip tightened around his hands. 'Speak to me. Mommy is here. Tell me what is wrong.'

'My head... I feel,' he said, moved back towards the bed, 'I feel...'

He heard his mother gasp, heard her cry out. This snapped him out of his confusion and made him focus on her. Her little hands were both clasped about her mouth. She was staring at something. Something on him, somewhere on him now, he followed her gaze down and down.

And then he saw it too.

From between Rodmond's legs there rose something out of a nightmare. He had to try and grab at it with both hands to be sure it was real. A giant tent had formed from his crotch. A hideously large pillar stood out from where his useless cock had once dangled. This thing was absurd in proportion, thicker than a sword hilt and long as the scepter he had been given earlier.

He could feel it now, an angry throbbing thing in his pants. And it was heavy, as if the flesh were made of stone. He hastily undid his breeches and sash to find the root, only to gasp when he tried to uncover it.

It was his cock alright though it looked as though it belonged to a man twice his age and three times his size. He could barely close his fist around it. What had that wizard done to him?

It was easily a foot in length with angry blue-red veins crisscrossing the impossibly thick shaft. He thought of the amount of blood needed to power such an immense member and it made him dizzy all over again. He felt weak in the knees.

Marzanna watched in confusion as her son dropped down against the edge of the bed holding onto his cock with both hands. It pointed menacingly straight towards her. She was frozen stiff. She couldn't believe her eyes. Her son had a massive cock.

'Mother,' he croaked, 'what's happened to me?'

'It's... why it must be the potion,' she said, 'the wizard's potion.' Her mind made the grim realization then that whatever stamina spell the wizard had used, in his haste to assemble the concoction; he must have added in the same prodigious growth magic that had ended his life earlier that morning. 'Oh blessed Redeemer,' she whispered, breathing fast, 'what do we do?' she came closer and slowly reached out to touch the oversized twitching member. She could immediately feel the intense heat coming from it.