Assault on Varus Keep

Hello all, izenrann here again! This story (and its probable sequels) was requested by Anonymous, who wishes to remain silent. To those of you who are waiting for my other works in progress...I hear you! But I'm also just starting school so time is kind of precious.

Anyhoo, please enjoy! Comments and feedback welcome.

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Varus Keep. All who lived in the Kingdom of Arshelm knew of it. Nestled deep in mountains, past valley and forest, home to demons and a host of other things too foul to describe.

Many heroes had tried and failed to breach its defenses, to cleanse the world of what lay within...but all had failed. And so for nigh on a hundred years it had lain in its festering shell, a pockmark on the pristine landscape of the realm.

But today this would all change.

The princess of Arshelm, Cyrrhea, looked back from where she was trudging up a hill to her two companions. Erza, her shieldmaiden since birth, a woman strong of form and mightier of axe.

One could not ask for a more stalwart and true companion. And behind her Verais, the court mage, slender of build and long of hair - her magics as powerful as her indefatigable spirit.

Between the three of them, Cyrrhea could not envision a foe that they could not defeat.

Which was just as well. For Varus Keep was the dominion of the mad witch Marsche. They called her mad, but in truth Cyrrhea suspected that she was more than that. There seemed to be no rhyme and reason why she loosed plagues upon the land, or summoned demons to destroy towns, or called forth swarms of flies and frogs to torment her unsuspecting countrymen...but Cyrrhea had fought enough warlocks and demons to know that there was more often than not a method to their madness. No, Marsche was up to something. And whatever it was, she and her companions would put a stop to it.

Now if only the climb up to the Keep wasn't so dammanbly long...Cyrrhea heaved a sigh and was heartened to see Erza flash her a wink. Good old Erza. She knew just how to cheer her up.

At least there were no demons along the way. They had to keep their strength up if they were to breach the keep's defenses. Cyrrhea shouldered her pack once more, took in a deep breath and resumed the long trek upwards.

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The hill was surprisingly enough the worst of it. There were no demons to fight, no fire-breathing dragons to slay on their way up to the iron doors that barred them from entry. Cyrrhea didn't know whether to be relieved at how easy it was, or worried that the absence of enemies just meant that there would be more inside waiting for them.

No way to tell unless they went in. Erza slammed her considerable girth against the door and it swung open gently. The three of them advanced slowly inside, sword, axe and staff at the held at the ready. Caution was the watchword...there was no telling what awaited them, what foul magics Marsche had prepared.

The first of the threats they encountered was more prosaic in nature. A yelled warning from Erza saved her from being split open by an axe that descended swiftly from the ceiling. After that came a magical barrier that Verais dispelled in a matter of seconds, then a boulder which they managed to leap aside from at the last minute. Cyrrhea found herself almost amused by the traps. A descending axe...really? That was just so cliched.

They made their way through halls and stairs until they were almost at the inner sanctum of the witch. There it was that stiffer competition surfaced. They rounded a corner to come face to face with armed guards...around twenty of them, bearded, muscled and grim of face. Cyrrhea unsheathed her blade and motioned for the companions to follow. This wasn't the time for stealth...it was steel on steel, either them or us.

A veteran of a hundred battles in mountains, forest and deserts, Cyrrhea didn't find twenty guardsmen to be challenge. Neither did her companions. A few well-placed blows from Erza's axe, coupled with fireballs from Verais, laid their enemies low in a matter of minutes. None of them were killed, for which Cyrrhea was strangely grateful for...they weren't murderers. Leaving the crumpled bodies of their erstwhile foes at their feet, they rushed into the witch's sanctum.

Marsche was waiting for them. Legs dangling off the throne with a crooked smile on her face, she waved nonchalantly as the three of them surrounded her - as if this was nothing more than a day at the beach.

"Well well well...what have we here? Three adventures, come to say hello? I wonder how I can entertain you..."

Cyrrhea pointed the tip of her sword at the spellweaver. "Spare us your banter, witch. Either vow to leave the realm forever and never work your magics again, or I run you through with this sword right now." The only response she got was a peal of manic laughter.

"How droll you are! No, I have no intention of leaving, and no, I will not explain what I'm up to either - which I'm sure was going to be your next question. Instead, how about I do...THIS!" And before any of them could react, Marsche had flung out her hands and caught them in a spellweave. Erza collapsed to the ground in seconds. Verais, being a mage, struggled for a while, her wards flickered blue and green against the witch's magic, but in time she too was rendered unconscious.

Cyrrhea watched helplessly as her companions slumped to the ground, insensate. Then without warning the web of magic closed in upon her.

The princess of Arshelm had no idea what to expect, but whatever it was, it wasn't what happened. Cyrrhea felt a heat rush through her chest, and she watched in horrified fascination as her breasts began to expand. She had always been modestly endowed, but in seconds her tits had grown to twice their normal size and showed no signs of stopping. She clapped her hands to them in a futile attempt to arrest their growth, but the expanding breast flesh simply flowed over her fingers until finally Cyrrhea was the possessor of two huge melons that protruded from her so far that she couldn't see her feet.

That was just the start of the changes. Cyrrhea felt but could not see her buttocks began to plump out as well, turning from toned to fleshy and erasing hours of sword training in seconds. She yelped as a spotted black and white tail sprouted from her fuller behind, and then shrieked anew as black and white spots started appearing on her body. Two curving horns sprouted from her head, and as the mad witch looked on in glee, Cyrrhea felt milk gush out from her new transformed nipples. They had grown in size with her breasts as well, firm and sticking out inches from her chest as white fluid dribbled down them.

It didn't take a mage to know what the witch had done to her. She had been transformed into a cowgirl. In the castle library back home Cyrrhea had read tales of half-beast half women, possessing the attributes of both but being truly neither. At that time she had thought them a strange curiosity, nothing more...she had never thought that she would actually become one of them. And of all the animals, a cow - with huge breasts and leaking tits.

But the worst was yet to come.

It started as an itch, a strange tingling in her nether regions. At first Cyrrhea was worried that it would be another change coming - and right in the most sensitive of places too! It was, but at the same time it wasn't. The tingling became a scratching, then something sharp and more pointed, until it resolved itself into a sensation that Cyrrhea was all too familiar with...lust.

It tickled and scratched and ate away at her insides, and Cyrrhea found herself moaning helpless as she was caught in its throes. She couldn't help it! She was just, so, so horny!

It was the spell, she knew it. All the work of the sorceress and her infernal magic. But knowing it didn't make the feelings coursing through her body any easier to deal with. She moaned (more like lowed...she was a cow now!) in desire, cupping her enlarged breasts in her hands and trying desperately to quench the raging lust that rushed through her. She heard the witch's cackle as she slid a hand futilely between her legs.

"What have we have here? You're not so uppity now, Princess. Where has that fire and determination gone? No, the only thing that will cure your current predicament is a hard, thorough fucking."

Cyrrhea winced at those words even as she toyed with her leaking nipples to no avail. Fucking. That was what was going to happen to her. Not only had her noble quest failed, she had been transformed into this...this...thing. And now she was going to be fucked like the animal she was. To her shame, the thought of that only made her even more aroused, and she let out another uncontrollable moan. It was this damned cowgirl body!

Marsche smirked again as the princess tried and failed to control her newfound desires. "Don't you worry, Princess. I have just the thing for you." She clapped her hands and the doors opened, letting in a stream of men...many of those the guards that her party had taken down on their way to where they now stood. But where they had once crossed swords in anger and defiance, now all of them sported huge grins on their faces...and very erect penises down below. It was obvious that they knew what they had been summoned for.

Cyrrhea was no virgin, but the duties of ruling the kingdom and dealing with day to day affairs had left her with little time for romance. A few whispered dalliances in summer villas were all that she knew of the union between man and woman.

But now she lowed again in heat - because that was what it was, pure animal desire - as man after man took her roughly from behind. Her huge tits smashed into the carpet of the throne room, milk staining the purple fabric white. Where her own hands had no success in stopping the flow of milk from her melons, it was different with the men...they palmed her massive breasts unmercifully as they mated with her, and after the fifth or so the flow had finally stopped.

Her mind screamed at her at how wrong this all was, but her new body's desires were insatiable. Five was hardly enough. She got down on all fours (like a proper cow) and shook her full ass at the gathered men. The sorceress's magic had made it swell as well - not as much as her tits had, but more than enough to attract attention.

The gathered throng accepted her wordless invitation gladly. One by one they took her as she squealed and moaned. The combination of shame and arousal had rendered her incapable of speech and all she could do was thrust back against her many lovers as they plundered her depths repeatedly.

Finally it was over. They left her - once the princess of Arshelm, now a cowgirl slut - on the floor in the castle of her greatest foe, leaking cum from her well-used slit but finally satisfied.