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Return of Malachi (Short Story)
🕑 Added 2023-10-16 00:17:45 +0000 UTCIn the heart of the prosperous realm, lush meadows kissed by sunlight and fortresses crowned with splendid towers, there nestled a castle, a sanctuary of serenity, and past victories. Queen Elara, a benevolent ruler of golden locks and astute mind, gazed longingly out of her grand window, reflecting upon memories of love lost and battles once fought.
Whispers of the past floated through the stone corridors of the castle, echoes of a time where darkness sought to overshadow the light. Ten years had passed since the vile wizard Malachi, his heart brimming with malevolence and avarice, attempted to bring the kingdom to its knees. He was vanquished, so the tales proclaimed, by Elara’s late husband, King Cedric, who sacrificed himself to preserve the peace and prosperity of their realm.
The throne room, splendid in its majesty, glimmered with the gentle caress of sunlight, casting golden hues upon the violet drapery and intricate tapestries depicting sagas of old. Queen Elara, adorned in a luxurious purple gown, her blonde tresses cascading gracefully over her shoulders, cradled her delicate crown, a symbolic beacon of unwavering strength amidst the ebbing tides of sorrow and loss.
She pondered upon the well-being of her subjects, recalling the smiles of children playing in the meadows, and the heartfelt gratitude expressed by her people. Elara, though bolstered by the love of her kingdom, could not dispel the shadow of loneliness that lingered within the secluded chambers of her heart.
A soft murmur drifted through the marbled hall as the queen prepared herself for an audience, her gaze steadfast, welcoming petitioners into her presence. Whispers of admiration intertwined with muffled conversations as noble men and women, peasants and tradesfolk, presented their grievances and words of appreciation to their sovereign.
As the audience dwindled, a cloaked figure, shrouded in enigmatic darkness, approached, head bowed in seemingly respectful submission. The air stiffened, a palpable unease weaving through the breath of every soul present.
"Your Majesty, Queen Elara, Ruler of the Prosperous Lands," the figure spoke, voice a curious mixture of velvety softness and underlying venom. "I stand before you, a mere traveler, beseeching an audience with the beacon of this splendid kingdom."
Elara, perceptive and intuitively attuned to the energies enveloping her, inclined her head slightly, her eyes shimmering with both benevolence and discernment. “Speak, traveler, and find solace in the audience of your queen.”
A twisted smile, unseen beneath the cloak, marred the figure’s countenance as he lifted his head, unveiling a visage thought to be erased by the annals of time. The gasp that rippled through the hall was both instant and horrified.
Malachi, the dark wizard, his eyes ablaze with unrestrained malevolence and triumphant vengeance, stood defiantly before the shocked assembly. His existence, though believed to be extinguished, now ignited the embers of chaos and impending doom.
Queen Elara, ever the embodiment of grace and unyielding strength, retained her composure, her voice steady yet tinged with an unspoken acknowledgment of the darkness resurrected before her. “Malachi... your presence stains these walls with memories of despair and conflict. Yet, here you stand, a phantom of our tormented past. What do you seek within these sacred halls?”
The wizard, savoring the bitter sweetness of shock and dread permeating the air, unveiled his intentions, a shadow cascading across his vile countenance. “Dear queen, I seek retribution, a reckoning for the betrayal and demise unjustly thrust upon me. Today, I shall rewrite the tale of this land, and your fate, beloved Elara, shall intertwine with the anguish I have endured in the abyss of desolation.”
The atmosphere, now saturated with tangible fear and looming malevolence, witnessed the resurgence of an ancient enmity, a clash between light and darkness, as the first threads of a sinister incantation began to weave around the beleaguered queen.
The incantation swirled around Queen Elara with palpable malevolence, dark tendrils binding and snaking around her body, a ghastly spectacle before her horrified subjects. Her heart, once filled with benevolence, now pulsated with a dreadful mixture of fear and anguish as her body began its unholy metamorphosis.
Her chest began to swell gently at first, gradually expanding outward, stretching the luxurious fabric that clung to her.
As her bosom continued to expand, the delicate material of her gown began to strain, the fibers whining quietly against the relentless pressure. Her breasts seemed to balloon, ever larger, filling with an unseen but potent energy, the fabric struggling to contain the newfound volume. Elara, gazing down with wide, astonished eyes, watched as tiny threads began to tear, creating a tantalizing symphony of soft rips that echoed through the chamber. Still, the fabric, though strained, did not fully succumb to the expansion, clinging determinedly to its royal wearer.
Her eyes, wide and frantic, remained locked with Malachi’s as her form began to broaden and swell. Her dress continued to stretch and groan against the burgeoning form beneath. Elara’s slender arms, once capable of gentle caresses and stern declarations, visibly thickened and shortened, muscles bulging unnaturally beneath her skin. Her once-elegant fingers, twisted in silent plea towards the wizard, began to curl inward, grotesquely fusing, nails darkening, and thickening into a stark, crude semblance of hooves.
A scream, part human, part an unsettling, porcine squeal, tore from her lips as her nose pushed forward into a grotesque snout, her skin rippling and puckering into a rough, pink hide, while her eyes, filled with tears of despair, shifted from vibrant blue to a dark, pitifully human brown amidst her new, animalistic features.
Her words, still echoing in the horrified silence, became muffled and unintelligible, morphing into distressed oinks and squeals, “Malachi, I – snort - beg – youuuuu...” Her pleas, now a disconcerting mixture of human and animal sounds, wove a symphony of horror through the throne room.
Even as her mind clouded with bestial instinct, a fragment of her humanity clung on, eyes still gleaming with anguish and impotent fury as her torso bloated and expanded. Her dress finally succumbed, fabric tearing away to reveal a body no longer human, now porcine in form and stature, yet horrifyingly cognizant of its former humanity.
Simultaneously, the guards, noble protectors of the realm, attempted to rush towards their queen, only to be entwined in similar tendrils of dark energy. Their armor groaned and creaked against their transforming bodies, faces contorting in pain and confusion as various forms emerged amidst strangled cries. A cacophony of moos, brays, and grunts punctured the eerie silence as their forms twisted and morphed into a bizarre menagerie of farmyard creatures.
One guard, previously tall and statuesque, crumpled forwards, his armor splitting and clattering to the floor as his spine elongated into a swaying tail, skin stretching and darkening into a coarse, bovine hide. His panicked eyes turned vacant, now peering out of a bovine skull, as a deep, disoriented moo vibrated through the hall.
Another, his voice breaking between horrified sobs and undignified brays, bent backwards, armor plates bursting away as a grey, sturdy donkey form emerged, his horrified eyes blinking amidst a face no longer his own.
The dark wizard Malachi, reveling in the torment unfurling before him, turned his sinister gaze back towards the pig that once was a queen. Her eyes, a lingering ghost of her former self, stared back, defeated yet defiant.
He leaned forward, whispering his vindictive victory into the floppy, transformed ears atop her swine-like head. “You shall roam, Elara, amidst the filth and muck, a beast in form, forever tortured by the shattered remnants of your humanity. Your kingdom shall crumble beneath the cloven hooves of my wrath, and your people shall perish, oblivious, amidst the pastures of their desolation.”
The throne room, once a sanctuary of justice and benevolence, now echoed with the ghastly symphony of grotesque transformations and Malachi’s dark mirth. And amidst the chaos, the pig that once was Queen Elara wept, her tears a silent oath, a whisper through the aether that somehow, vengeance would bloom amidst the sorrowful fields of despair.
Comments
A great story that really does well to walk the lines between horror and the humiliating eroticism (for us) of forced transformation. My favorites are always when the victim of TF is TFed without any karmic comeuppance. That is, when they are innocent and good and are TFed regardless. Hopefully there isn't some comely princess of Elara and Cedric's lineage who finds herself on the other side of Malachi's magic. ;)
