The Gift

"And on this, the occasion of our daughter's birth, we call forth the three fairies to be her godmothers. Wise beyond even their own years and powerful beyond our knowing, we offer our finest jewels to thee."

The king stood atop the dais, arms raised. His staff of office was held in one hand with the other bare to show his good intentions. Before him, a select crowd of nobles and rich merchants applauded politely. The queen, so fresh from a harsh childbirth, smiled thinly from her seat next to her royal husband.

Doves were released from behind the throne. Chosen for their purity, their white wings fairly shined in the mid-morning sun. The doves, the symbol of their kingdom, spread in an arc above the crowd. A few unlucky nobles cursed silently when the birds relieved themselves but the ceremony otherwise proceeded as planned.

Three plump women bowed before the king as they waited to bestow their gifts.

The first fairy touched the tiny sleeping princess's forehead. A single golden lock of the child's hair came free from the swaddling. "For you, tiny god daughter, strength of limbs and vitality to match. You should grow strong and true."

"From me," said the second fairy, kissing the small child's forehead. "Wisdom to know the true path you must take and the courage to see it to the end."

The last fairy, her fat cheeks wide on her face, brushed her fingernail against the child's hair. "And my gift. The voice to call your people and the words to bind them to your cause. You'll grow into a fine queen."

Cheers erupted amongst the people watching. The king raised his scepter higher while the queen smiled bravely.

"And now-" the king began.

A dark shadow formed in the spotless corner of the chamber. Light seemed to bend around the darkness, creating a wavering reflection of the surrounding room. The crowd murmured and moved, giving wide berth to the unnatural scene. A noble lady gasped as a frail hand pushed through the black veil.

"Wisdom, was it?" A cackling voice said. A thin, bony arm followed the hand and, finally, an old crone stepped through. "Strength? Leadership?"

"Who are you?" the king demanded.

"Pah!" the old woman shouted. She was dressed in rags, bent over her staff and her gimlet eye surveyed the crowd. "You beggar yourself for useless trinkets! Your kingdom is poor and surrounded by those who would take it for their own. And, instead of readying yourself for conflict, you frolic in your fields like naïve children. While around you, vultures prowl."

The old woman's staff click-clacked on the marble floor as she made her way to the throne. The crowd parted before her while the three fairies stepped down to face the newcomer.

"It is our way," the king said. His face grew red with anger, dark splotches forming above his well-trimmed beard. "We are a peaceful-"

"No!" the woman screeched. "You hide behind your doves and your lambs, playing at peace, afraid to take up arms and offend your neighbors!" She turned in a circle, pointing her staff at the assembly. "And all the while, around you, your lords and ladies and blacksmiths sell their wares and their souls to your enemies."

"This is an outrage-!"

"I would never-!"

"Lies!"

"My king, surely-!"

"SILENCE!" the crone roared, stamping her oaken staff. A wave of force radiated from her. A few of the more brave men in the crowd stepped toward her. "Any man that touches me dies. Or lady. Know this and stand aside."

The three fairies stood alone before the old woman.

"Will you harm her?" one asked.

"No," the crone answered.

"You swear?" asked a second.

"I do."

Click-clack went the crone's staff as the fairies stood away from her. The third fairy gestured at the king and he backed away, his face ashen.

Standing before the tiny princess, the old woman pricked her thumb on her own snaggletooth. Thick, rich blood welled from the wound. With surprising delicacy, she leaned over the small child and pressed her thumb against the babe's lips. The child sucked at the thumb in her sleep, well trained by the touch of her nursemaid's nipple. The crone whispered to the child and then stood.

Ignoring the cries of outrage that bloomed around her, the old witch turned and made her way back to her magical globe.

"Wait!" the king. Panic stood clear on his face. "What have you done with her?!"

The old woman turned, her face grim. "I have made her fierce. As you will not." Without another word, the woman turned, stepped into the darkness and was no more.

-

The child grew under the watchful eye of the king, queen and her nursemaids. She was a beautiful golden-haired young girl and the darling of the court. She was fast and sweet and quick to laugh. Slowly, the king's fears vanished. The old witch had failed, her curse perhaps broken by the fairy gifts.

However, the king quietly chose to look into her warnings. In response, the nobles and merchants hid their dealings, delaying plans for years until the king's suspicions were laid to rest. The kingdom flourished and the king eventually continued to ignore the small signs of tensions growing along his border.

Princess Isabella learned her lessons well and without complaint. Never had anyone seen such a well-spoken, innocent young child. When she reached the proper age, she learned to blush prettily at the boys while reciting poetry or practicing her needlework. She sat with her mother, rapt with attention when told of more womanly duties. Her eyes sparkled at the thought of her own golden-haired children, even if the hows and whys of their creation were beyond her.

When her blood came, she was terrified and tried to hide it. A few more lessons were given but, still, her innocence was preserved. The holy teachings forbid the glorification of intercourse for more than child bearing and so the young woman learned nothing of it save that a man and a woman were both needed. She need know nothing else, her mother assured her, as her lord husband would instruct her properly in their wedding bed.

Slowly, old dealings were renewed. Promises were made and the drums of war sounded across the realm.

-

"But, mother, I know nothing of him," Princess Isabella complained.

Queen Margaret pulled at a few loose hairs that had escaped from her daughter's intricate braids. "I know, child. None of us do but I'm afraid we've no choice. The terms were clear and we must not take up arms. We've tried to protect you the best we can but you've reached your eighteenth name day and we can no longer deny, in good faith, the suitors."

The young princess sat straight-backed on her cushion. Thick white paint hid the blush in her cheeks. "And so soon? What will happen with you and father?"

"My dear child," the queen sighed. "Worry not for us. We'll be given land at the edge of the kingdom and... and perhaps someday you may come visit us. Yes?"

"Of course I would, mother!" The princess exclaimed. Why wouldn't I be able to visit you?"

"Sweet child," the queen said. The older woman continued to pull at imaginary threads from the young woman's dress. "It will be difficult for you. Your father and I won't be at the wedding tomorrow and... and we may be kept apart. Our lives and the lives of our people are spared because of this union. Now you see why it is so important. Prince William is a fine young man according to court gossip. Brave and bold."

Princess Isabella's face crumbled. "I shall never see you again, shall I?"

The two women hugged, comforting one another as evening fell.

-

The small castle was nearly silent at night. Faint noises from the kennels and stables and servants working throughout the hallways were the only noises.

Princess Isabella sat in her bed, propped up by a multitude of pillows. She'd tried to write in her diary but her thoughts wandered and she found herself thinking of her wedding day. Tomorrow she would meet her husband for the first time and they would be married, joined as one for the sake of the kingdom.

Will he be handsome? the young girl wondered. Kind? Gentle?

Princess Isabella brushed her lips with her finger, her mind turning to yet other thoughts. Although young and inexperienced, she'd seen husbands and wives kissing. She'd witnessed animals mating roughly before blushing and turning her eyes aside. She had vague ideas of how it would work. A slow throbbing began to build between the young woman's legs. Her face flushed red as she told herself how improper the feelings were.

Although she knew she was alone, the princess stole a quick, shy glance around the room. Satisfied that no one was somehow hiding in a corner, she pulled the bottom of her sleeping gown up and over her hips. Her smooth, white stomach led down to the slit between her legs. Soft, downy blond hair fanned out from above her sex. The young woman played her fingers through the hair, sighing at the way her fingers touched her flesh. She felt different, she noticed, as her heartbeat quickened. Her touch made her more excited and something beat between her legs as if alive.

The young woman's sex was perfectly formed and her small pink lips were nearly completely hidden. Slowly, as her excitement increased, she opened. Princess Isabella gasped. She'd never allowed herself to become this excited and, now that she had, the effect upon her began to increase rapidly. She felt swollen and, for the first time in her life, she could see much of her smaller lips. A peculiar smell filled the air as her shiny inner lips became exposed. The young woman turned her head, hiding it in her pillows as a small groan turned into a slight purring rumble deep and low in her throat.

Images of animals mating filled her head. Stallions mounting mares and sows squealing as they were filled. She wondered - were men the same? Is their sex (penis, her mind whispered, a word she'd heard spoken by a few maids) like a stallion's? Thick and flat and huge and swollen? The young woman shuddered, revulsion mixing with a building arousal. Would it even fit?

Slowly, the princess slid a single finger down through her soft hair to brush against her sex. Never had she allowed herself to touch. It was wrong. Her lord husband would father children with her and that was all. Her arousal was wrong. It was a sin to... Princess Isabella whimpered, a very animalistic whine escaping her lips, muffled by the pillow. Quickly, before she could change her mind, the young woman covered her lower body and buried her hands under her pillows.

She felt so empty. Her entire body tingled, crying out to be touched, caressed and loved and her chest ached at two bright, hot points. Every time she shifted, her soft, silky clothes dragged across her smooth, lithe body and she shivered.

Unseen to her, a line of fine blond hairs receded quietly into the skin along her back. And, as she grit her teeth against the urge to touch herself, to pleasure herself, her canine teeth shrank back into her mouth, once again hidden and perfect.

-

The morning was a whirlwind of activity. There had been no time for a proper wedding. No time to take months to plan properly. Dress makers across the kingdom had banded together to create a wedding dress for the young princess in a single day. She was bathed in milk and flowers and honey as her handmaidens attended her every needs.

The princess stood naked before her three handmaidens. Ordinarily, she would have been serenely as they dressed her but, today, she blushed to the tips of her ears. Could they tell what she'd done? Was there a way to tell? Did she look different now? Was that... smell still there?

Ignoring the thoughts, the princess focused on the task at hand. She grunted painfully but quietly as her corset was tied tighter and tighter. An array of dress makers fussed with her stockings and dress as she was fitted. Black velvet with white silk satin highlights made the dress incredibly heavy and warm but the princess was well schooled in hiding her various discomforts. The lace veil was the final touch.

Princess Isabella barely heard the cooing of the women around her as they told her how incredibly beautiful she was. The young woman's heart beat fiercely in her chest and she found all she could think about was her wedding. Standing in front of a man she didn't know and saying the words that would bind them together forever. She meekly followed as she was led out to the cathedral.

Prince William stood straight and tall before the ornate altar at end of the cathedral. Standing two steps above him, the bishop smiled serenely as Princess Isabella walked between the pews. The young woman recognized barely half of the people present.

Behind the prince stood an impassive guard. He was young but his eyes betrayed years of experience in the field. Princess Isabella was startled; the guard's skin was dark. She'd never seen anyone without fair skin but here, now, was a man with skin the color of burnished oak. She averted her eyes, sure that she was staring. What kind of man was he? she wondered. Where does he come from to look like that?

The crowd murmured in appreciation as she passed, her dress dragging against the floor. She could feel the stone tiles radiating their familiar coldness. It seemed the cathedral never warmed and, indeed, she'd often made excuses to visit and pray during the warm summers. The smooth skin of her thighs slid together as she walked and she was briefly reminded of the night before.

Light blond hairs sprouted gently from above her sex. They rose along her taut stomach in a slow, lazy line to surround her belly button. Her ears, so petite and well rounded, slowly lengthened, hiding their new, delicate tips in her thick, blond braided hair.

Princess Isabella stopped before her prince. The young man looked her over closely, his eyes shamelessly roaming her body. And then, he smirked. The young princess felt her heart sink. There was no compassion in the young man's eyes; he merely saw a prize won by his kingdom. The princess frowned, sniffing the air. A sharp, unpleasant scent cut through the incense permeating the cathedral. Sweat and urine and some other unknown smell wafted to her changing nose. She grimaced and her slightly sharpened canine teeth jutted from her painted lips. Beneath the heavy coat of red paint, the young woman's lips began to blacken and swell.

Still seeking the unfamiliar scent, the princess cast her eyes down briefly. The smell came more strongly from between the prince's legs and she found her lips watering as she breathed more deeply. Sweet beaded along her back as blond fur sprouted between her shoulder blades. She groaned quietly, eyes downcast at the odd sensation. She felt a sudden, intense heat spread through her body, radiating from below her chest and down between her legs.

The bishop was speaking. The ceremony had begun. The princess' tongue swelled in her mouth and only her heavy veil kept the crowd from watching as her long tongue hung free from her mouth. Her lips continued to darken as blond fur pushed through her skin and along her jawline.

The heat blooming in her body was nearly unbearable. The young woman's virgin sex swelled as it pulsed, exposing her already slick inner lips. She barely restrained herself from shoving her hand roughly between her thighs. Her concentration was fading. She whined as fabric stretched across her expanding chest. The corset pulled tight as new muscles grew deep within her body. Her pert breasts flattened against her tight dress and she felt the slick, sweaty, soft skin sliding against her body. Her nipples moved as her breasts doubled in size, dragging torturously against the velvet of her dress.

Prince William frowned. The princess had hunched slightly and he swore she was panting. He held a hand up to the bishop and the old man stopped. The crowd, unsure of what was happening, whispered fiercely to each other.

Beneath her veil, blond fur raced up from the princess' jaw to cover her cheeks and chin. Her brown eyes lightened into a pure golden hue. Bones shifted and cracked and her skin stretched as her face began to elongate. The young woman arched her back at a sudden pain at the base of her spine. Bones and muscles grew and moved and a thick tail, held tight against her dress, slid between her bare ass cheeks.

Hard, sharp black points pressed through the tips of the princess' fingers, cut through skin and nail as her claws came in. Her hands lengthened while her thumb shortened. Human thoughts were replaced with base instincts. She wanted to hunt and kill and mate. Her juices coated the fur that began to sprout from her tail. All around her, her dress began to tear, exposing sweating bare skin and thick blond fur. The princess dug her claws into the fabric around her throat and pulled, freeing her massive, furry breasts.

Prince William screamed as he legs gave out. The young man fell to the floor. All around him, nobles and merchants panicked.

Princess Isabella howled as her new, thick tail slid against her exposed, engorged pussy lips. She threw her head back and her veil tented out as her muzzle pressed against it. Her howl of pain and lust deepened into a bestial roar. Dogs around the castle were thrown into a frenzy, slamming against their wooden cages. Distant, somehow familiar calls answered her howling with their own.

The prince's knight drew his sword but, to the princess, he moved in slow motion. She swiped a claw against his face almost contemptuously and the man crumbled to the ground, bloody hands clamped to his dark, ruined face. Princess Isabella bent to the prince. Powerful jaws clamped around the prince's throat and she tugged as her claws tore into his belly. Blood bubbled in the man's throat as he died.

Snarling, the princess turned. In their panic, the onlookers fumbled and pushed and screamed. Not a single one of the two hundred guests had made it even halfway to the heavy wooden doors at the entrance. Thick black lips pulled back as the princess grinned. She stood on half-human legs. Sparse fur along her bulging thighs grew more dense as bones popped and cracked in her feet. Her slippers burst as her feet widened. She growled as new joints developed, forcing her to the balls of her feet. Thick black padding grew under her toes as they swelled and her small toe pulled back into a dewclaw. Bloody claws scraped, scoring the stone floor as her paws finished growing. Her thick calf muscles were quickly hidden under tufts of blond fur.

Princess Isabella dropped to all fours. Her ruined dress fluttered around her as she launched herself into the crowd, snapping and biting and clawing.

Behind her, the prince's knight cried out. Dark black fur began to grow from the slice in his face and his hand was swelling. Shiny black claws pushed through his fingertips as his hand became covered in fur. His black eyes faded to gold and he snarled as fangs burst from bloody gums. He grunted clawing at his armor. Powerful new muscles easily rent the steel covering him and he tore it all away, leaving himself in the simple padding beneath the heavy plate mail.

The man's face cracked and shifted. He kicked the air, screaming in his strange language, beseeching the gods to stop the curse from taking him. To stop the thoughts that were now running through his mind. Slowly, his cursing began to fade as the princess' scent filled his nose. He rolled to all fours.

The dark man's cock swelled under him, pushing above his trousers. He kneaded the ground with his half-muzzle lifted, scenting. A dark black tail grew from the small of his back, swishing against the air. Skin grew up along the man's dark cock. Pink skin began to grow in patches along his length as his manhood swelled and lengthened even further. Slowly, the head of his cock flattened and grew slanted. Pre-cum lined the tip before falling to the stone floor. The man's thick, red wolf's cock throbbed under him. A bulge appeared at the base of it, easily visible through his now tight trousers. The last of his human thoughts faded as the princess' heat filled his mind.