Chapter 13
“Where is he?!” shouted Queen Ursula.
William flinched as his wife’s angry voice echoed through the large throne room. He stood slightly back from the left armrest of her imposing ornate seat. William was wearing a simple white smock that covered his diminutive frame down to his mid-thighs. He had nothing on underneath. That was the way Ursula liked it. Ursula sat on her throne in the centre of the dais, wearing a long slinky blood-red dress. Her hair had been styled into an elaborate up-do today, giving her a more mature and authoritative look. Her lips matched the shade of her dress, and her pale blue eyes seemed to glow like chips of sea ice as she looked down at the timid man before her.
The man was on his knees, inside a wooden cage. A military tattoo was inscribed on his right arm, a symbol of the old regime. Two imposing members of Olga’s infantry core had dragged his cage into the throne room, before withdrawing to the edge of the hall. The man appeared to be in his early 50s, and sported a close-cropped grey-brown beard and a full head of hair. He looked down at his hands, remaining silent. It had been months since William had seen a full-sized man within the palace walls, let alone one so obviously free to live as he pleased. William’s life had become one of cloistered servitude, humiliation, and cowardice. The only exception was his work with the talisman – his one secret – confined to the briefest moments of solitude he could attain only every few weeks.
“I’ve been told you were captured lurking about the walls of Tubann, in the southeast. You had no identification papers,” Ursula said to the man in the cage. “I rarely make time for insignificant traitors to the realm like you. Do you know why you were brought before me?”
The man shook his head, keeping his eyes down. William fidgeted with the sleeve of his smock, feeling nervous just watching the scene before him. His memory of when he had once been a king now tended to seem like a distant fantasy. Two years of unspeakable humiliation and shocking sights had crushed his spirit, and withered his confidence and memory of power.
“We found the letter,” Ursula said.
The man lifted his eyes, looking up at the Queen.
“That’s right,” Ursula continued. “The letter you had hidden in the setting of your ring. Quite ingenious, I must say, to put a miniature letter behind a precious gem, which might be projected onto a wall given the presence of a full moon. However, you underestimated the talent now growing at the University of Femnoria.”
The man gripped the solid wood bars of his cage and leaned forward a bit. William watched as Ursula lifted a slip of paper from an elegant nearby table. “Dear Rutherford,” she began to read. “Proceed with mission at Tubann. Project Blue Bridge will proceed as scheduled. Agents Harrier and Badger will meet you at rendezvous site Beta-9. Stay strong. For King and Country.” Ursula read the final phrase with a derisive sneer on her luscious lips.
The man let out a low groan. William realized that Rutherford, if that was his real name, was an operative. William’s feelings of failure and humiliation deepened as he, a former king, simply stood and watched his witch of a wife work to undo a loyal subject of the last soverign king of Patterland. Rutherford’s gaze flicked to him for a moment, then back to Ursula.
“Well, well,” Ursula sighed. “A secret agent? A spy for a false king?”
Rutherford shook his head.
“A traitor!” Ursula boomed, gripping the armrests of her throne and leaning forward. “You obviously know where little prince James is hiding. We keep finding pathetic spies and disobedient men lurking in various parts of Femnoria, eager to pull down the harmonious fabric of the new regime. But until now, they’ve mostly been hired lackeys or ignorant idiots, brainwashed into thinking my reign is not the best thing for them.”
Ursula pointed a manicured finger at Rutherford and the cage he was locked in. “You’re different. You’re a member of the old order. You have skills, knowledge. What were you, a general? A knight? You’ve broken bread with James himself, haven’t you?”
Rutherford’s lip curled up in rebellious anger. “That’s none of your concern.”
“Such insolence,” Ursula said. “Tell me where James is. Where is he?!”
This repeat of her initial demand elicited no response from the captive before her. Slowly, the Queen leaned back in her throne, and her eyelids lowered in simmering malice. She stared at Rutherford. William had seen this look before. The hairs on the back of his head began to stand up. He didn’t dare speak, not now, even though he longed to beg for clemency for Rutherford. He knew Ursula might do something awful. She had been searching for King James for a long time, and William was well aware of how badly she wanted to remove the last king from the equation.
William glanced behind him. King James’ small cracked marble throne had been covered up with a black velvet sheet. But it could not be removed. It was a part of the palace, of the power of the triumvirate, even if Ursula had mostly absorbed that power. The throne was a comforting reminder that Ursula’s power over Femnoria remained incomplete. William worried about how far she would go to attain her goal. He turned back to look down at Rutherford. The man had gone back to staring down at his hands. He was so calm. William admired him.
“Fine,” Ursula hissed. “I’ll give you one final chance. Tell me the location of James, and I’ll allow you to live. Refuse, and you will still help me, but you won’t survive the process.”
Rutherford lifted his defiant gaze to Ursula for a brief moment. “Burn in hell you usurping witch,” he said, before resuming his pose. Several gasps could be heard coming from various women – witches and priestesses mostly – scattered throughout the chamber.
Several moments of silence passed.
“Very well,” Ursula replied. “I’ll show you just how much of a witch I am.”
Ursula’s eyes began to glow; icy blue light shimmered out from between her sultry eyelids. William felt a contorting flow of sorcery in the room, a crackling sensation of energy dancing across the air. Ursula had grown immensely powerful since her ascension to the throne, but she mostly preferred to act through her coterie of servants, subjects, courtiers, and allies. He had never witnessed her make use of raw magic directly like this. He felt a yawning fear of his ambitious wife open up in his stomach. William had seen many things in the last two years, but he had tried to lie to himself about how strange his world had become. He told himself that Ursula was just another ruler, a bit despotic and quirky, but not too sinister. For her part, the Queen tended to keep him cut off from the flow of information in the palace, ignorant of business in the realm and government. Now, William’s witness of Ursula’s brazen use of sorcery was breaking down a mental barrier he’d worked so hard to build up for his own sanity. He stepped backwards half a step as Ursula lifted her hand.
A crackle of blue electricity shot out of her fingertips toward Rutherford, causing his cage to lurch into the air. It hung several feet above the floor of the throne room, seeming immune to the forces of gravity, but glowing slightly with an infusion of sorcery. Rutherford gripped the bars of the cage and peered down at the ground, shocked at what was happening. Ursula crooked an index finger, and the cage began to drift closer to her throne, moving on its own through the air. With her other hand, Ursula made a sweeping motion, causing the cage to twirl slowly in place. As the cage rotated, William could see Rutherford clinging to the bars. Ursula’s mouth turned up in a sultry smirk beneath her glowing eyes.
Next, she formed her hand into a claw, her sharp red-painted nails haloed with supernatural illumination. Slowly, Ursula began to close her fingertips together. As she did, William could see the cage contract in on itself, squeezing smaller around Rutherford, constricting him into an ever diminishing amount of space, and forcing him to hunch down and curl up. William gasped. She would crush him to death soon!
But just as Rutherford began to squirm and grunt in a growing panic, Ursula relaxed her hand, stopping the cage from getting any smaller. The captive man inside it was mashed against the solid wooden bars and visibly struggling to take normal breaths. “Feeling a bit restrained?” Ursula asked. “You’re a big strong man. Can’t you break out of that little wood cage?”
Indeed, Rutherford’s muscles were straining as he attempted to do just that. Ursula laughed haughtily from her throne, watching the display before her. The shrunken cage continued to rotate in the air, giving everyone in the hall a view of Rutherford’s struggle.
“William, you’d never have a problem like Rutherford. You’re a much more reasonable size than this barbaric ape-man from the past,” Ursula said, not looking away from the cage.
William blushed, standing in his soft smock. He saw Rutherford’s eyes widen. Words formed on the man’s lips. “William? King William?” he whispered.
Rutherford shoved his fingers between the bars of the cage in a vain attempt to reach toward William, but the rotation of his trap only made it seem all the more useless. It didn’t matter. It was purely an instinctive response. “King William! Is it really you? What have they done to you?” Rutherford cried. “Please, help me! Help King James. My lord, do something!”
William hung his head, shuddering with old feelings of guilt. It had been years since he’d been called a king. This was torture.
Ursula cackled. “Billy, he thinks you’re a king! Are you a king, my pet?”
William shook his head, knowing better than to claim such a high place. Two years of training had taught him well. His ego crushed long ago by his own foolish lack of caution with regard to his maniacal bride.
“I don’t hear you, Billy.” Ursula said.
“No, your majesty, I am not a king,” William said. His voice was timid, defeated.
“Lies! Stand up to her, man!” Rutherford implored.
Ursula smiled. “Oh, he thinks you should stand up to me. He doesn’t understand, does he Billy?”
William shook his head again, his eyes downward, submissive.
“Perhaps we should educate him on what it is like to stand up to me,” Ursula said. “Would you like some more space to move, spy?”
Rutherford grunted, contorted in the small confines of the cage, staring at the broken king standing beside Ursula’s throne. “Please, help me…”
“Oh, I’ll help you,” Ursula said, pointing her finger at the cage. “Here.”
The cage abruptly stopped twirling, and a bright blue bolt of energy shot in an arc from Ursula’s finger toward it, through the bars and into Rutherford’s body. It snapped and crackled as it flowed through the space between them. Rutherford yelped as the bolt connected with his skin. Then he gasped. “What are you doing to me?”
Ursula did not answer. She arched her back in pleasure as the flow of energy intensified, splitting into multiple forks of energy. William lifted his eyes, watching in horror as Rutherford let out a scream. The trapped man was shrinking inside of the cage. Visible flows of energy moved out of his form, down the arcing bolts, and into Ursula’s fingers, into her body. She began to grow. Rutherford was getting smaller and smaller as Ursula drained away his size and strength, consuming it. Her ample breasts swelled outward and her head rose higher as she moaned. Her hips widened as her ass expanded voluptuously in her seat, straining her already form-fitting red dress. She was getting bigger in every way. William stumbled back slightly as her throne seemed to inflate in size, adjusting to accommodate Ursula’s growth. She had to be at least several inches taller than her previously intimidating 6’6” height, William thought. He looked up at Rutherford, who now had ample space inside the levitating cage. William doubted Rutherford was even as tall as he was now. He looked reduced, a miniature version of his former self.
“Mmm…that’s much better,” Ursula moaned. “Now, what were you saying about standing up to me?” She flicked her hand and the cage tumbled to the floor, splintering into pieces like a toy.
Rutherford stood up, dazed. As he staggered to his feet amidst the wreckage of the cage, Ursula rose out of her throne. Standing on her high heels, she towered at least seven feet tall on the dais, a vision of terrible beauty and power. William whimpered in horror. He didn’t even come up to her hip. Rutherford looked up at Queen Ursula in shock, shaking his head. “No, oh gods no…”
Ursula laughed in a low sinister tone, her voice filling the chamber. She slowly stepped down the steps of the dais toward Rutherford, looming over him. Her heels echoed against the marble steps, as she descended to his level. The tiny man barely came up to her mid-thighs and she looked down over her ample breasts at him in derision. “See how you stand up to me? Do you really think your precious little toy kings Billy or Jimmy can do any better?” Ursula asked.
Rutherford turned to run, but Ursula’s hand shot out and she grabbed him by the neck. “You see, Billy?” she laughed. “He’s just as much of a coward as you, as any of you.”
William swallowed back emotions and nodded. “Yes, your majesty,” he said softly.
“No, you can’t do this,” said Rutherford, as he squirmed in Ursula’s grip. “We have to stop them. Someone, help!”
“I already helped you!” boomed Ursula. “And now you’re going to help me. It’s time to give me the location of your pathetic rebel-king’s hideout.”
“Never, witch!” shouted the spy.
Ursula’s hand shifted from Rutherford’s neck to his hair, gripping it. Her fingers slid over his scalp, buried in his hair. Ursula’s glowing eyes brightened and Rutherford shivered and twitched. He let out a broken scream of pain.
William stumbled forward several steps, wanting desperately to do something, but afraid. The sight before him filled him with horror. Ursula was invading Rutherford’s mind.
“Get out! Get out of my head!” the spy begged. He twitched and shook as Ursula probed his thoughts, her grip on him strong and firm.
“Mmm…such a tedious adolescence you had. Let’s see…oh my, you’ve been in the field a long time.” Ursula laughed. “Going deeper now…let me in. Let me into your mind, traitor.”
“Nooo…” whimpered Rutherford.
“Ooo…interesting sexual fantasies you have,” Ursula cooed. “Such a naughty little pervert man.”
Ursula squeezed Rutherford’s head harder and little bolts of blue electricity lanced from her fingertips into his skin, causing his teeth to chatter from the force of her power.
“There it is…” Ursula sighed. “That’s it, give it to me.”
William watched, unable to look away. Rutherford was starting to shrink again, as Ursula stole the information she needed, draining him with the force of her will.
“Give it all to me,” she said. “Your military training, your missions. You don’t need those memories. Feel me inside your mind. There is no escape. I am your QUEEN.”
Rutherford dwindled as Ursula lifted him right off the floor, gripping his small head in her hand. She shook him lightly like a dolly puppet, causing his feet to sway in the air. Finally, she released her grip, dropping him without ceremony to the floor. She had what she wanted. Rutherford fell into a small heap. William watched, holding a hand over his mouth in reaction to the sight.
Ursula looked down at the tiny man at her feet, looming over him in her tight red dress. The royal circlet crown on her head, set amidst her thick black hair, sparkled in the light of the throne room. “Get up, now,” she commanded.
Rutherford looked confused, dazed. He slowly stood up in the middle of the throne room, barely up to Ursula’s knees. The hall was lined with privileged courtesans, witches, and powerful women in Ursula’s inner circle. They were all watching, along with William, as the doll-sized man stood before the Queen.
“See how you stand up to me, spy?” Ursula spat. “Now I have the location of your precious hideout. All your effort was for nothing. It only made you weaker, smaller.”
Rutherford shook his head in distress. “I…I can’t remember my mission, my commanders! Please, give me back my memories,” he cried. His voice came out small and weak now.
“You no longer need them,” Ursula decreed. “They’re mine now. Just like this realm and all its pathetic men.” She lifted her red high heel and slammed it loudly into the floor beside Rutherford, causing him to fall to his knees, trembling.
William let out a small scream. For a moment he thought his wife was about to crush the man under her foot. It was clear that Rutherford thought this too. He was cowering on knees at Ursula’s toes. “I told you that you wouldn’t survive the process of helping me,” she said. “Now I know your deepest secrets. I have what I wanted, but deep in your mind I have learned something ever so interesting.”
Ursula lifted her gaze to the occupants of the throne room, panning over the various women around the chamber. “This little man doesn’t like please women, down below,” she announced. “He finds licking a woman to be distasteful, evening humiliating!” Rutherford gasped as the Queen revealed a private and personal fact to the entire court. Several laughs could be heard from the corners of the room. There was little pity here for him after his earlier displays of seditious defiance.
“Now, I am a woman of my word,” Ursula continued, looking down at Rutherford again. “You have served your usefulness, except for one final thing that I think you’ll be perfect for.”
Bending down, she grabbed the doll-sized man and lifted him up to her face, gripping him by the waist. Ursula’s eyes, which had faded back to normal, roamed over Rutherford’s body as he kicked and squirmed in her fingers. He tried to push her fingers away from his body with tiny hands. She smiled wide and watched him, staring at his struggle with intensity. “Excellent. He has such fight in him, unlike my husband,” cooed Ursula.
William felt humiliated once again.
“Ylva has asked to perform a Vulvic ritual that has not been seen in this land for over a thousand years. It is a necessary ritual to awaken and further strengthen the influence of the Goddess over Femnoria. The Mother of Wombs demands a sacrifice, and this little runt is an ideal candidate,” said Ursula. Rutherford continued to squirm in her hand as she beckoned to a nearby priestess.
Ursula handed the tiny man to a beautiful blonde woman in white robes and a purple sash. The priestess looked down at the tiny man in her hand in awe, fascinated as he struggled against her grip. A slow smile spread on her face as she felt his small struggles. “Tell Ylva she can begin preparations for the Ceremony of Unbirth,” Ursula commanded.
“Yes your majesty,” the priestess answered, before carrying Rutherford off down the hall and out the doors.
Ursula turned to a guardswoman, issuing more commands as she returned to her throne. “You, bring me a map, and get a messenger here immediately. We have to inform Olga of our good fortune. James’ cowardly defiance will soon be ended.”
William stepped back into place as Ursula returned to her throne, shifting her ass slightly as she lowered into the comfortable seat. “Well my pet, it’s been an exciting day hasn’t it?” Ursula asked.
William’s voice was shaky. “Yes, my Queen.”
She placed her hand on his head, stroking his hair. Her hand was bigger now, and her fingers covered slightly more of his head than before. “You’re such a good boy. Not like those other naughty men. Don’t ever betray me,” she said.
William shook his head fervently. “Never, your highness!” He swallowed and tried not to think of the talisman he’d hidden in their chambers, and his one singular path of resistance. He shuddered in horror at the idea of what Ursula would do if she discovered his secret transmissions.
“Good. Such a good boy,” Ursula cooed. A pretty young messenger-woman approached the throne and Queen Ursula turned to issue her commands.
Chapter 14
The beat of many drums pulsed through the alleys and streets of Hypatiaberg. The arteries of Femnoria’s capital city resonated with deep repeating thuds, which emanated like a heartbeat from an enormous new structure looming atop the ruins of the old high temple of the Elemental Pantheon. The massive new Vulvic high temple had been under construction for over a year and was expected to take many more years to complete. Its great stone dome soared above every other building in the city, and was capped by a blunted spire that glowed red in the gathering darkness of encroaching night. In many ways, the shape of the elaborate building resembled an abstract depiction of a woman’s breast, a gigantic symbol of female fertility. While the structure was still covered in scaffolding, its grandeur was already becoming clear. Hundreds of male labourers could be seen in the scaffolding, lifting heavy stones into place, carving patterns on the various faces of the temple, or laying the foundations for new wings and antechambers.
William sat in Ursula’s royal coach, set amongst plush blue cushions. He was wearing his simple clean white smock, as usual. The coach had been specially constructed for the Queen, and was covered with elaborate silver filigree, pulled by a team of four white horses. To either side of William, sat women who dwarfed him in their stature and beauty. Today was a day for the clergy – Femnoria’s new religious caste – and Ursula had allowed some of the highest-ranking priestesses to travel with her in the royal coach for today’s ceremony. A mix of ladies-in-waiting, sorceresses, and guards typically held the seats. Today, all of the seats, except for the Queen’s, were filled with elaborately robed women in full vestments. William had been wedged in between them. “You don’t really take up much space, Billy,” Ursula had explained.
Ylva, the Vulvic High Priestess, sat in resplendent robes next to the Queen, her thick brown mane of curls cascading down her shoulders. Ursula wore a beautiful gown of gossamer white and silver, which made her match the look of the clergywomen around her. William sat across from his wife, between two statuesque priestesses clothed in beautiful robes that probably cost more than ten peasants made could make in a year. To William’s left was a satin-voiced dark brown-skinned woman named Elantra. She had full lips, a small nose, and penetrating dark eyes. To his right was a pale woman with freckles and dirty-blonde hair, who seemed to possess a permanent smirk on her lips. Her name was Kelly.
William was seated between Elantra and Kelly. Their hips pressed softly against him from both sides. Soft cushions pushed against his back and his feat dangled above the floor of the coach, not quite reaching. He tried to look out the windows, but he was too short to properly see, and his view was often blocked by the feminine curves all around him. He looked across at Ursula, who caught his eyes and smiled slowly at him. Ylva had a small brass cage on her lap, which she gripped possessively. Inside was Rutherford. William looked guiltily at the man, who was on his knees, forced into this position by the limited space. Rutherford was about 20 inches tall, but the cage was not much more then a foot in height and about eight to nine inches in diameter. It was a bell-shaped brass cage, similar to the kind wealthy aristocratic women might use to keep exotic birds from the southern tropics in as pets. William could see Rutherford looking around the coach, his tiny hands clinging to the small brass bars.
He looked away, unable to bear the sight of King James’ man so broken and reduced, even if Rutherford seemed to be trying to put on a brave face. William tried to see out the window to his left, but Elantra leaned forward to look at the cage, blocking his view with her shoulder and a mass of thick straight black hair. “Do you think it will work?” she asked, with her silky smooth voice.
Ylva glanced down at the cage in her lap and nodded. Her fingers gripped the polished metal and her long nails pushed through the slim bars toward Rutherford’s naked body. “He’ll make a perfect sacrifice, especially considering what Queen Ursula has told me about his inner feelings regarding the pleasuring of women. His size is almost ideal. With some minor adjustments, he will work wonderfully,” Ylva answered.
“Mmm…” moaned Kelly, shifting her hips side to side, squishing William into Elantra’s body as she moved. “He’s so little. It’s just like we read in the Sacred Tomes of the Sisterhood. It’s just like you told us, Ylva.”
Elantra lowered her head slightly to get a better look at Rutherford, who backed away from her gaze, but twitched as he felt the poke of Ylva’s nails against his back, coming through the bars. Ylva nodded in response to Kelly. “Exactly, Sister Kelly,” she said.
Ursula laughed slowly, still staring at William, as he struggled to avoid being squished between the two priestesses’ curves. “We’re almost there. You can feel the drums right through the coach now,” she said.
The women all nodded and looked out the windows. William grunted as Elantra’s big boob mashed against his head while she leaned to see out the right side of the coach. Her robes pushed into his face as he tried to turn his head away. She laughed softly, looking down at him. “Oops, sorry. I didn’t meant to squish you, little consort,” said Elantra.
Ursula stifled a laugh, and shook her head. “Don’t worry. He’s sturdier than he looks,” she said.
The carriage finally drew to a stop and a guard opened the door to the coach from the outside. Kelly quickly exited, followed by Elantra, then Ylva. Finally, Ursula moved toward the door. William followed behind her out of habit, knowing better than to lollygag. Huge braziers had been lit to illuminate the temple grounds, and William was shocked to see thousands of people lining the large plaza at the foot of the steps to the new temple. The crowd mostly consisted of women, and he realized that many were students from the University of Femnoria. The beat of the drums was louder here, so close to the temple. As Ursula stepped down from the carriage, a soldier in dress-uniform shouted, “Her majesty the Queen, Ursula Venomix!”
A cheer mixed with clapping went up from the crowd around them. William stood nervously behind Ursula as she grinned at the public adulation directed at her. He could practically feel her feeding off it. Ylva had covered up Rutherford’s cage with a white cloth, and was carrying it inconspicuously at her side. She turned and began to ascend the steps to the temple. Ursula, Elantra, and Kelly followed, with William several steps behind. He could hear the whispers from the crowd, the eyes on him, as he scurried to keep up with the long strides of the women. The stairs seemed oversized from his reduced stature, and he had to take two paces between each step, but he managed to keep up. Enormous half-carved statues of female figures lined each side of the walkway: warriors, sorceresses, nude figures, demi-goddesses, and others were depicted in beautiful craftsmanship and intimidating scale.
When William and the Queen reached the top step, they stood before a massive doorway shaped like a stretched-out oval. The opening of the door was set into stonework that flared away in curving stone petal-shapes, and at the top of the narrow arch was a bulbous lantern. Suddenly, William realized that the main entrance to the High Temple was shaped like a vagina, with stonework portraying an artistic floral metaphor for labial folds. The lantern rested in the place and shape of a clitoris at the top of the doorway. A dim red glow emanated from the inner halls of the temple, radiating out softly from entrance. William felt the hairs on the back of his neck raise up as he stared at the doorway. It was at least 15 feet high, but from his small height it stood before him like some giant lewd stonework vulva. The air was heavy with dark energy and witchcraft.
The drumbeat continued. Thud…thud…thud…
William started to back away, but Ursula’s hand was resting on the back of his head. He looked up to see her smiling down at him. She’d been watching him stare at the temple entrance all along, he realized. “Scared little Billy? Do you miss your pretend fire gods and the hovel of a temple that used to stand in this spot?” Ursula said.
William reluctantly nodded.
“Aww, well I promise that this place will be far more impressive when its complete, and that you’ll feel truly at home…inside,” she said, gently pushing him toward the doorway. “This is your new religion.”
The group of priestesses walked two-by-two into the temple, with William prodded along just ahead of Ursula and Ylva. Their robes swirled at the back of his ankles. He was only slightly higher than eye-level to Kelly and Elantra’s curvaceous bottoms as they walked in front of him, and William felt himself getting aroused as he walked amidst the powerful ladies. Ylva was still carrying the covered cage with Rutherford inside, holding it by the top with one hand at her side. He tried to clear his mind, but the sights and scents of the women around him kept him from focusing on rational thoughts.
As they moved into the temple, William had to blink his eyes and refocus. It was dark, lit only sparingly by glowing red magic-infused stones that appeared like some sort of ruby-like crystals set into the walls. Sometimes the stones hung from the ceiling in bronze chandeliers. Layers of amber covered the walls with increasing density as they passed deeper into the temple. It appeared that no expense had been spared. The amber-coated walls picked up the red light, casting an eerie orange-red ambient glow over the entire interior. Eventually, they entered a vast central space supported by immense pillars that was lit with inset stones and braziers set strategically and tastefully around the room. Several dozen women were positioned around the edge of the circular space, striking big resonant kettledrums with thick sticks. The beat was so loud here that it seemed to vibrate through William’s whole body. Even the lights seemed to pulse subtly to the beat of the drums.
The floor was covered in expensive, silver-flecked grey marble. Patterns stretched across the floor in onyx, lain down like a mosaic on the marble. Geometric designs flowed across the circular domed space. William realized that these designs were not merely artistic or benign. They were elaborate, calculated, and magical. This was witchcraft on a vast and institutional scale, entrenched into the very bones of the building. An altar made of pure obsidian seemed to grow out of the centre of the floor, at the terminus of many of the engraved lines. It sat directly under a slanting ring-shaped shaft of moonlight, which shone down from a narrow circlet opening above.
William gasped. “What is this place?” he whispered.
No one answered him. He was irrelevant. Ylva handed the cage to Ursula, and strode confidently to the altar at the center of the chamber. She raised her hands as the drumbeat continued and began to chant in a weird tongue that William did not understand. He looked up at Ursula, but his wife was staring at Ylva now. Elantra and Kelly stood close to Ylva and joined into the chant. Slowly, they began to help her disrobe. William watched in awe as Ylva’s robes fell to the floor and she shed her various undergarments and shoes. His member stiffened at the sight of Ylva’s tanned, buttery smooth skin. Her hips flared from a narrow waist. Her thighs shone with perfect silky health. She was fit and yet curvy and soft. A thick mane of loose brown curls tumbled down her back. Ylva turned to face Ursula and William, and he saw her ample breasts jutting from her chest, each capped by a dark brown areola and a perky nipple. Between her legs was a trimmed patch of dark brown pubic hair. William tried to fight it, but his erection had grown so that a small tent was forming in his smock. He felt exposed, vulnerable, as the drums continued to pulse.
But Ursula was not even looking at him. She had lifted the cage and pulled back its cover, exposing Rutherford to the full enormity of the scene. William could see Rutherford looking about frantically and pressing up against the bars in a vein attempt to get out. He moved almost like a big squirrel, caught in some trap. The drums went on, vibrating the small brass cage as their incessant beat pulsed through the air.
Ylva stepped backwards and sat down on the altar, leaning into its curved shape and placing her feet onto neatly carved stirrups. William could have sworn those stirrups had not been there before. He watched as she opened her legs and shifted her hips. Ursula’s hand pressed against the back of William’s head once again and she began to walk with him toward the altar. William stumbled, reluctant to come further into the sinister circle, yet drawn toward Ylva’s luscious body. He was afraid. Something very bad was about to happen. He could feel it.
Ursula lifted the cage as they approached Ylva. She raised it up so that the small clasped door of the cage faced toward the high priestess. Ursula stepped closer to the altar, between Ylva’s ankles, and then she manoeuvred the cage so she was holding it between Ylva’s smooth thighs. Rutherford pressed himself toward the back of the cage as Ursula pushed it closer to Ylva’s crotch. “Look tiny spy, it’s a vagina!” Ursula declared. “We all know how much you dislike going down on women, getting your face close to their wetness. What’s the matter? Are you scared?”
Ylva moaned and bucked her hips lewdly, causing her pubic mound to rub against the small cage door, leaving wetness on the bars. Rutherford pressed himself against the furthest opposite curve of the cage, staring in horror at Ylva’s vulva. William stood at Ursula’s hip, watching and feeling guilty for his own arousal at the sight before him. Witches ruled his kingdom. Now they were practicing their vile spellcraft and filthy perversions on a blatant and unrepentant scale, but he could do nothing to stop them. In fact, he was the one who had foolishly opened the way to their ascendency, to his wife’s maniacal plot.
Ursula laughed with low mirth and slowly angled the cage toward Ylva’s crotch. The drums continued to beat while Kelly and Elantra watched from either side, chanting softly in some mysterious tongue. Rutherford scampered with little feet and clung to the bars to prevent himself from sliding toward Ylva’s pussy lips, which pushed against the bars as she continued to gyrate her hips. Ursula shook the cage, causing it to rub against the priestess, who moaned while Rutherford flopped about, nearly losing his grip. She shook it again and William watched as Rutherford lost his grip, falling toward the part of the cage wedged between Ylva’s inner thighs and wet sex. Rutherford dropped against the brass bars pushing into the folds of Ylva’s pussy lips. She moaned at the sensation of movement and rubbing against her sensitive sex.
Rutherford had barely come up to Ursula’s knees when William had last seen him outside a cage. Now, as the shrunken spy scrambled to manoeuvre himself away, William realized that Ylva’s vulva was probably a disturbing size in relation to him. Her hungry wet slit was nearly as long as one of Rutherford’s tiny arms, and her puffy lips exaggerated the size of her sex as he crawled about atop it, trying to keep his hands on the metallic bars of the angled cage. Rutherford was carefully avoiding the protruding nub of her clitoris, almost the size of a lime from his perspective.
William gripped his smock in fear for the loyal servant of King James, but he also fought with his own reprehensible arousal at the sight before him, the raw sexuality. Ursula eyes glowed and she began to chant softly. The words of the priestesses and the Queen seemed to mingle and combine with the beat of the drums. Sorcery and witchcraft hung thick in the air, weaving eerie alterations to the material world.
Ylva began to grow.
William gasped as he realized it. Ylva had been the most petite and ‘normal’ looking of the Ursula’s inner circle. But now, she was growing slowly, expanding on the altar, which seemed to grow in symbiosis with her. It was expanding over the floor. Strangely, the pagan lines and designs of the floor seemed to adjust, fluidic, to compensate. The priestesses stepped slightly back, chanting continuously; and William moved right along with them, horrified to see Ylva’s transformation. Her smooth thighs thickened. Her legs lengthened and her breasts swelled. She was naked and beautiful, becoming larger, thicker, and just plain bigger. She looked to be close to Ursula’s height and proportion now.
As Ylva grew, her vulva expanded in equal proportion against the bars of the cage. Rutherford was making sounds of fear as Ylva’s sex grew beneath him. Lubricating wetness ran over the bars of the cage, making it harder for him to get away or keep a grip on the metal. He was forced to crawl over her sensitive pubic mound, the floor of his tiny space. Ylva moaned deeply and began to squeeze the cage between her thick thighs, causing it to bend and warp as her perfect skin pushed against the slim bars from either side. The door of the cage popped inward and broke, causing Rutherford to bounce up against the curved side of the cage as it flew open. Ylva’s wet vagina surged into the gap, opening like a fuzzy flower, a slick hill that Rutherford slid toward, despite his best efforts to grab at slippery brass rungs.
Ylva squeezed the cage harder between her legs and it warped and popped. The brass bars were compressing, causing the small spy to be pushed toward her sex. She bucked her hips as he scrambled against her dark brown pubic hairs. Ylva’s bucking caused him to flop about the cage, bouncing between the bars and the cushion of her moist skin. The cage was collapsing smaller and smaller, crumpling between the high priestess’ strong tanned thighs. The bars bent inward, causing the small space to implode and forcing Rutherford against Ylva’s vagina. He pushed his arms against her lips, trying to get away, but his back was met by the proximity of the now convex inner cage wall. Rutherford was literally being pushed against her pussy, with no other place to retreat to.
Ylva’s pussy began to open and flex as Rutherford squirmed against it, responding to his unintentional ministrations. As he tried to evade the pulsing mass of her vulva, his foot pushed against the base of her slit, slipping between her lips. Ylva moaned loudly amidst the ongoing chants and drumbeats. Her vagina squeezed down on the tiny man’s leg and it was sucked in further. William’s mouth hung open in shock as he watched Rutherford’s struggle against Ylva’s wet pussy. She bucked her hips as Rutherford tried to push his free knee against her mound for leverage, tried to get his leg out. But she was too wet. His knee simply slid across the wet pubic hairs and into her cleft. Rutherford was up to his mid-thighs in Ylva’s squeezing vagina.
“Oh no!” William cried, as he watched. “This can’t be happening.”
The chanting continued and Ursula palmed William’s head, looking down at him, hunger in her eyes, before turning back to the sight before them. William trembled as he watched Rutherford fighting Ylva’s pussy, trying to pull himself out. But William could see that Rutherford was shrinking while Ylva grew more. As the tiny man struggled, the battle was growing ever more unfair. Her pussy lips seemed to yawn apart, seemed to encompass more of his body, oozing in torrid humidity around his legs, sliding around his hips and cock. Rutherford pushed with tiny hands down into her curly pubic mound, but Ylva’s squeezed her pussy muscles and rocked her hips, causing Rutherford’s body to lift slightly, before sinking even deeper. The tiny man tried to grab above his head at the warped cage bars, grasping them like a lifeline. This seemed to help, and prevented him from sinking deeper into Ylva’s depths. William silently urged Rutherford on, watching the scene unfold a few feet from his face.
But the high priestess continued to flex and moan, thrusting her hips against the cage, using Rutherford’s dildo-sized form for sexual stimulus. William realized that the man’s efforts had only made him a more effective sex toy. Her pussy kept squeezing his body like a cock. Rutherford was getting more and more weary as he clung to the bars above his head. “Help meeee!” the tiny man cried out from between Ylva’s thighs.
William saw that Rutherford was looking at him, pleading. William reached out hesitantly, not sure what could do. Even as he lifted his arm, Ursula grabbed him firmly by the wrist, looking down at him with chastisement and shaking her head. William whimpered as he heard Rutherford pleading. The tiny spy’s hands slipped from the brass bars. Ylva opened her legs slightly and the crumpled cage fell to the floor with a metallic clatter. The high priestess sat on the altar with her legs apart, the little man sunken to his waist in her vagina, struggling to get out. William stared at the obscene sight before him, and watched as Rutherford was slowly swallowed alive by Ylva’s vagina. Rutherford struggled and squirmed, grasping for any handhold – pubic hairs, labia, clitoris – they were all too wet. Any touch only seemed to stimulate the high priestess more, accelerating his demise.
“Noooo…” Rutherford mewed as his head sunk between Ylva’s glistening lips. She reached down between her legs to rub her wet folds and clit with her manicured fingers.
Ylva rubbed as Rutherford disappeared from sight inside her. The chanting continued. The drums beat on. William watched as Ylva bucked and arched on the altar, experiencing a deep orgasm. The high priestess let out a feral scream that echoed around the great chamber of the temple with intense power. The scream modulated, splitting from its initial feminine ecstasy into multi-toned witchy hedonistic chords. William trembled at the terrible sound of Ylva’s pleasure, knowing how it had been achieved. He stared in hope at her wet vulva, hoping to see a sign of Rutherford – that he might reappear from this depraved humiliation.
Instead, Ylva began to grow.
Her eyes turned dark like onyx, the sclera and iris merging into a night-black void as she screamed. Her hips flared out and her legs lengthened. Ylva’s body expanded outward. Her nails grew out and horns sprouted from her scalp, curling out like a ram through her mane of hair. William gasped in horror as Ylva stood up, looming immense above the chamber, nearly 30 feet tall. She towered in the centre of the circle, a trickle of wetness running down her gigantic thigh.
“Noooo…” wailed William. The sight before him beggared reality.
The drums had stopped. The chanting had ceased.
Ursula, Elantra, and Kelly looked up. Ursula was grinning with an exalted expression. “Mother of Wombs!” She cried. “You honour us with your presence!”
Ylva looked down at them with unreadable eyes. When she spoke, William realized, this was not the high priestess. This was something else – a goddess – a terrible horrifying supremacy that was now manifesting in Femnoria, in what had once been Patterland. “The Ceremony of Unbirth has been completed. I awake for the first time in millennia,” the figure boomed, seeming to shake the very foundations of the temple. William’s body shuddered involuntarily, a puny man before staggering female power.
“Yessss,” Ursula hissed, gazing up at the impossible giantess. Ursula lifted her voice and continued. “We have re-asserted the Sisterhood upon this realm. We are making the way for a resurrection of the Old Order, of the Matriarchy. It is a time of rebirth. We have swept away the flimsy boys who kept this land in bondage and created a new realm. We call on you to aid us, Mother of Wombs. Our final battle for control of Femnoria approaches!”
The Mother of Wombs gazed down at them, balling her immense fists up and flexing. William stared up agog with fear and trembling. “Well done my daughters. I can feel the potential, the return of the ancient sisterhood. You must remake this land,” she spoke, cracking the air with her voice. “You must snuff out the pollution of the Elemental imposters who have chained this place in masculine lies. I will aid you and your rewards will be many. Win victory, and I will expand your powers.”
The immense figure closed her eyes. “I can feel the sacrifice inside of me. His life is returning to my fount. What I have given, I can take back. My time, my manifestation, grows short. I grant you a blessing as reward for awakening me and giving me this sacrifice. Let this land become an expression of witchcraft, of my presence. A new era dawns. An old era returns. In rebirth the cycle continues, like the moon and the blood of your wombs. Soon, all will tremble before you my daughters. You have done well.”
Ursula laughed in joy. Kelly and Elantra grinned at the praise from the Mother of Wombs, who was already dwindling down in size. William stared upward as the horns broke away from Ylva’s head and crashed to the floor like great bone tree-trunks, spinning into the curved sides of the chambers, where a host of priestesses scurried to examine them. Ylva shrank and diminished, her eyes clearing to their regular brown before she fell to her knees. She appeared to be exhausted, drained yet sated. Ylva stopped shrinking once she was about the same height as Ursula. She was a much more imposing figure than she had been an hour ago, even naked on her knees. Priestesses approached with blankets and hot drinks for their leader, wrapping Ylva with care and taking to her intensely as they took her away into the depths of the temple.
The ceremony was complete. Rutherford was gone. His purpose had been served, just as Ursula had said. The entire temple reeked of sex, of pussy, of female passion. William was shaking at what he had just witnessed. His mind worried over what the terrifying goddess had meant when she declared that the very land of Femnoria would be altered to suit witchcraft.
He did not have long to think about his worries. Ursula placed her hand on his shoulder. “Come, my little consort,” she cooed. “I have a campaign to plan. Let’s return to my palace.”
Chapter 15
“What do you mean he never reported in?” King James asked.
“Agent Rutherford never reported in for his debrief or his regular mission update, sire,” Sir Michael Tanner replied. Tanner had been a high-ranking knight before the Ursula’s rise. Now he was one of James’ most trusted lieutenants, in charge of logistics in the ongoing resistance efforts.
Tanner continued. “Our field agents and sources believe he may have been captured or killed outside Tubann, if he made it that far. As of this moment, reports received via our usual messenger pigeons say he disappeared and never completed Project Blue Bridge. Agents Harrier and Badger reported in at the rendezvous sites, but Rutherford never showed up. Now they’re missing too. We have to assume that the resistance cell and possibly even the entire network in the southeast has been compromised.”
Brother Victor leaned across the oak table from his seat at the king’s side. His large beard brushed against the rough-hewn wood. “So they were unable to make contact with representatives from Grønskogland? Did they even reach the border?” the cleric inquired.
Tanner shook his head and shrugged. “At this point, we’re in the dark. We have to assume that the mission has been compromised until we hear anything further.”
King James sighed and stroked his forehead. “This is a disaster. Not only have we failed to make contact with Patterland’s strongest ally, it’s also possible that the witches have gained intelligence about our whereabouts. Rutherford had deep knowledge about the resistance and the location of our base of operations. He was an officer in the Royal Army of Patterland. We need external aid. In two years, we have done little to check the advance of Ursula and her followers in their efforts to tighten their grip on power. I tire of sitting in these frigid mountains like some lame goat. Reports indicate that my people are beginning to accept the legitimacy of Ursula’s throne. She’s remaking Patterland as she sees fit! She’s even renamed it Femnoria,” James said with disgust.
“Grønskogland has been relatively cool to our overtures via messenger pigeons,” said Brother Victor, leaning back in his chair. “You know King Gunter has always been overly cautious, prone to neutrality and his astronomical studies.”
James grunted, stroking his neatly trimmed blonde beard. Shaving had become an afterthought in the cold primitive conditions of their mountain hideout. It had also become a subconscious way to reassert their masculinity after being pushed to the edges of the realm. They’d been made into annoying afterthoughts in a new order.
Long blond hair hung like a mane from James’ head. He wore a mix of wool and leather for the late summer in the mountains. The nights were never warm this high up. The three men sat at a round table within the tower. Their network had grown, but it had also decayed in quality and power as the months had passed. Many of their allied magi had been hunted down and neutralized by Ursula’s forces. There was little information on how this was being accomplished, but witchcraft was the most likely explanation. Other mages had gone into hiding amongst the general populace, and so been cut-off from the resistance. The tower and its underground warrens now supported close to 400 men and their families. Only 50 to 100 people were allowed on the surface at any given time, to limit disturbance in the vale that might attract attention from the lowlands. It was a hard life. The underground chambers and passages had been expanded considerably to support the new numbers, but it was still a life without sunlight or nature. King James often joked that he now ruled over a small kingdom of goblins or gnomes – mountain men. His wry humour betrayed an inner frustration.
“It leaves us with two other options, in terms of foreign assistance,” King James mused, drumming his middle finger on the table slowly as he thought.
Brother Victor shifted in his seat. “Your majesty. You know that none of them would be very inclined to assist us.”
“Circumstances have changed Brother Victor,” James said. “Our operatives have reported that Ursula has given succour and shelter to pirates who even now raid the shipping of traders in the eastern seas. The Kearan Protectorate in the southwest must have noticed that our efforts to settle the border valleys have entirely ceased. I know our relations with them have been poor these last dozen years, but their administration cannot be confortable with what has happened here.”
“The Kearan Protectorate is a puppet of the Euborean Duchy…” Brother Victor began, but the King cut him off.
“Yes, and the Grand Duke will not allow his puppet-state to engage in diplomacy on its own,” James acknowledged. “That leaves the Stammelands to the northwest and north.”
Sir Michael Tanner shook his head. “You can’t be serious, sire. They’re barbarians. They don’t even have a king or any sort of government. They barely farm.”
“They have a tribal council,” said James. “They meet each year at Mount Althingus and sit as equals to discuss trade, politics, marriages, war, and whatever else they deem fit.”
“Yes,” nodded Brother Victor. “They also drink heavily, or so we are told. Outsiders are forbidden at the yearly gatherings. I see little reason why they would assist us.”
James shrugged. “We have little choice, Brother. We must try to appeal to them as men. If Patterland falls fully under the power and government of witches, do you really think their ambitions will stop at the border? Our neighbours will be next. I would prefer to see my kingdom burned and sacked by barbarians than continue on with this slide into darkness.”
The room was silent for several moments. Finally, Brother Victor nodded. “It may be the only way,” he said.
King James glanced at Sir Michael. “We need to consider how we will approach the tribes of the Stammelands. Their lands are wild and forbidding. Autumn approaches and winter will come soon after. The passes will only be open for several more weeks, and then it will be almost impossible to send an agent to north until the spring thaw.”
Sir Michael nodded. “We will need to send someone skilled in survival and cold-weather travel, but also familiar with northern languages and customs.”
“Indeed,” said King James. “But first, I need a drink. It’s getting late. A drink, some sleep, and then we can discuss the matter in the morning.”
Brother Victor stood up and moved to the door. He stepped out briefly. Several moments later he returned, followed by a pretty young woman with her light brown hair in a braid. The girl held a basket with several stoneware cups in one hand. In the other was a stout bottle made of dark green glass.
“Ava, daughter of Baron Bundleroy,” Brother Victor said in introduction.
The young woman smiled nervously and curtseyed. “Good evening your highness,” she said to King James, before turning to Sir Michael. “My lord.”
King James and Sir Michael nodded and smiled. “Hello Ava. Thank you for your service,” said King James.
Ava placed a cup before each of the three men and uncorked the bottle. She carefully began pouring a finger of whisky into each cup. James leaned back in his seat, watching her. She was quite beautiful. He had not had a woman in his bed in weeks. There were few decent pickings amidst the austerity of his new life. It was all too easy for rumours to spread or to offend some lord by bedding his daughter or wife. James tended to pursue more lowborn women these days, but even that had its limitations.
Ava wore a light grey homespun wool dress, cinched at the waist with a band of thick blue cotton. It was nothing special, but it accentuated her figure. James speculated that Ava was probably around 23 or 24. She’d likely have been married already, if not for the present circumstances.
“How is your father doing Ava?” King James asked, as Ava re-corked the bottle. She lowered her eyes shyly.
“Oh, thank you for asking your majesty. Father is rather depressed some days, but he keeps his spirits up as best as possible. It was hard for him to abandon our household and estates. This mountain air does not suit him. He misses his orchards,” Ava explained.
Brother Victor nodded, thinking of the temple gardens in Paterburg, and how lovely they were in summer. He took a sip of the whisky, and let his mind wander nostalgically.
“I understand,” James said. He’d carefully avoided looking at Ava’s chest as she’d bent over to pour their drinks. But now he allowed himself a brief glance at her full figure. “We’ve all made sacrifices.”
Then, without warning, the solid stoneware cups on the table began to rattle. It began subtly. A clinking sound could be heard from the metallic casings around the lanterns attached the walls. All three men and Baron Bundleroy’s daughter looked about in confusion as next the tower began to shake around them.
Brother Victor let out a gasp and dropped his cup, spilling his drink across the table. “No!” He moaned, and clutched his head. “No, they’ve summoned Her!” The shaking intensified.
“What? What’s happening Brother Victor?” James demanded. “What’s going on?!”
The cleric screamed in pain and tugged at his robes with panic. “The Mother of Wombs! She’s manifested herself in Patterland. I can’t feel the Pantheon. I can’t feel Mardox! They’ve been sealed out, pushed aside. The ancient millennial order…has been…inverted!”
Outside the nearest window, red, vibrant, flashing streaks shot through the night sky, flickering like some unnatural lightning.
James wrinkled his brown in confusion, clinging to the edge of the thick table. “What are you talking about? Are we under attack?”
Ava staggered over to a nearby wall and braced herself against it, looking as confused and frightened as the rest. She moaned and arched her back, seeming to experience some sort of lurid sensation, but none of the men noticed.
Just then, the shaking stopped, and a feeling swept through the men in the room of intense vertigo. King James, Brother Victor, and Sir Michael Tanner each gasped and swayed in their seats as the feeling gradually faded.
Something had changed.
Ava shifted back to her feet, and stood blinking in worry. “Your majesty? My lords? Are you alright? What was that?”
“Our time is running out. It was the beginning of the end,” the cleric intoned. “The very ground, the bones of the land, will now be against us.”
King James growled in frustration and stood up. “Enough of your cryptic doom-speak,” he said. James immediately paused as he rose, furrowing his brow in confusion. “What…?”
Ava covered her mouth gracefully, gasping in surprise. The king was shorter than her! In fact, all of the men looked smaller, their clothes hanging baggy around their bodies. Yet she felt livelier, and her dress was tight against her bosom and hips. Was she bigger? The bottle of whisky in her hands felt lighter than before. “How peculiar… Your majesty,” Ava said breathily. “You’ve…shrunk!”
James’ eyes widened in horror. “No…this can’t be possible,” he muttered. Then his voice grew louder. “They can’t do this, not to all of us, from such distance!”
Brother Victor had buried his head in his hands. He moaned, “It wasn’t them. It was their Witch Goddess.”
James walked over to Ava, barely coming up to the young woman’s shoulders. He took the whisky bottle out of Ava’s hand and tugged the cork free as she looked down at him, wearing an expression of concern and curiosity. James drank deeply from the mouth of the bottle, feeling the alcohol fill his stomach with fire. He lowered the bottle and wiped his mouth, clenching his jaw.
Sir Michael stood up and swayed on his feet, realizing that he had been affected just as much as the king. In the distance, beyond the door, masculine shouts and curses could be heard.
Brother Victor stood and moved to the window, looking out, lost in his thoughts, mumbling. “The very soil, Femnoria moves against us – the plants, the animals - they are the Mother’s now. They all will change. The legends of old will return. The Queen will come for us soon.”
James ignored the old cleric. Sir Michael moved to the door, running out into the hall, seeking to console his men. The diminished king took another long swallow of whisky. Ava tilted her head, looking down at herself. She cupped her hands around her breasts and lifted them slightly in their woollen covering, feeling the new perky weight, the certainty of growth. She stifled a moan. She felt so good.
King James lowered the bottle, looking up at Ava with a mix of despair and general worry. She smiled down at him encouragingly. She wanted to help. “It’ll be okay King James,” Ava said. “I know you’re really smart and handsome. You’ll figure everything out and then we can all go home again, right?”
James felt his belt slip down his hips and he grabbed it with his free hand before his pants fell down. He nodded, “Yes, yes that’s exactly right. This isn’t over.”
By the window, Brother Victor began to chuckle and giggle in little fits. It was obvious his sanity was cracking under the strain of whatever had just happened. James glanced over at him with worry. “I’ll save us,” James continued.
Brother Victor laughed in manic tones and scurried out of the room.
“I’ll save us…” James whispered.
“I believe you,” Ava said. She slowly lifted her hand, feeling pity for the king, and hesitantly patted him on the head.
Chapter 16
They were coming.
Scout reports indicated a large force of soldiers, accompanied by priestesses and sorceresses had assembled on the plains to the west of Hypatiaberg – the capital city formerly known as Paterburg. James had suspected early on that the loss of intelligence operatives, especially the recent disastrous loss of Agent Rutherford, would eventually lead Ursula to his hideout. His suspicions were confirmed when enemy outriders began to probe the narrow valleys below his mountain base. James’ loyalist supporters were now regularly clashing with small bands of female soldiers in the foothills of the mountains, far below his main base.
Time was growing short. He counted himself lucky that Ursula was building up strength and had chosen to test him first rather than simply strike out for his fortress immediately. If she had attacked the week of the terrible mass-shrinking incident, James was uncertain whether his men would even have bothered to defend themselves. Morale had crashed once the men in James’ resistance realized that a new curse or spell had been cast over the entire male population of Femnoria. In the month following this event, James’ brothers-in-arms had been forced to adapt as best they could to their new and rather petite sizes. No man in James’ resistance movement now stood more than five feet in height. Their unaffected wives, daughters, and other female loyalists in the vale continued to console the men, assuring them that they were strong and capable soldiers – although some had begun to worry privately whether James’ resistance had much of a future.
A definite change in the social fabric was still working itself out. James himself had drawn close to Ava, a middling-born serving girl, who had been present attending him during the Mother of Womb’s terrifying manifestation in the capital. Upon James’ request to her father, Ava had stayed to serve her King, as a chambermaid and lover. This was allowed in exchange for a promise of betrothal. James had taken her to bed and it was widely acknowledged that the two would eventually be wed. The diminished king found that he needed the support of Ava, who seemed so strong and confident to his eyes in light of the recent changes. She provided moral and physical care to him after his loss of physical stature. Her father, Baron Bundleroy, had approved of the odd arrangement since it meant a potentially massive boost in his family’s stature and rank. If Baron Bundleroy’s daughter became a Queen, his grandson could end up king of the entire realm.
That is, if the realm would still exist as anyone remembered it.
In addition to the diminishment to the men of Femnoria, the very landscape had begun to change, just as Brother Victor had claimed it would during his feverous panic that horrible day. James had paid little attention to the old man’s ravings, but he’d learned that the cleric had seen the future accurately. There came reports from the lowlands that strange new vegetation had begun to grow, starting alongside rivers and in marshlands, but soon spreading into the wider countryside. Peculiar large mushrooms had sprouted in the shadows under trees. Their gills glowed at night with an eerie red bioluminescence. Eruptions of fungal masses bubbled up from the ground and the trunks of older trees. These and other new forms of fungi seemed to thrive in the cool damp weather that had settled over the realm in the last month. Trees had begun to twist themselves into odd shapes, growing crooked new limbs and hosting vibrant colonies of slimy mold and jumbo-sized mosses and lichens. The indication was strong that these odd new plants were only the beginning of some greater change. The foul taint of witchcraft had arrived. The corruption manifesting itself on the land was evidence enough to James and his allies that the stakes of their resistance were higher than ever.
But James could do little other than to rally the morale of his men, work with Brother Victor to shore up their wards and walls, and listen eagerly for the reports from the unknown spy in the capital. For some time now, Brother Victor had received irregular coded reports coming from within the royal palace itself. The spy refused to identify himself beyond his gender, but he had given the resistance some invaluable information including troop movements, legal decrees, and an early warning of Ursula’s alliance with the Black Widow Armada.
This is how James knew that Ursula was on the move, finally coming to end his resistance. James found himself sitting with Brother Victor, watching as letters began to materialize on an enchanted scroll. Each symbol appeared, one at a time, slowly revealing a complete sentence. After a moment or two the sentence would fade away, but the cleric made sure to quickly scribble down a copy before it did.
The latest message read, “Troops mustering at Breakwater Flats – increased change in plant-life and weather in the capital city. Advise you retreat in face of superior numbers. The usurper seeks you as a personal prize. Good luck. Transmissions may become more difficult from here forward – activity has been noticed by palace sorceresses.”
James mulled over the words. They were not encouraging, but they allow him some advance warning of Ursula’s intentions.
“So, the real question is whether to stay and fight, or retreat,” he said.
Brother Victor nodded, writing a reply of thanks to the unknown ally. “He still refuses to identify himself, sire,” the old cleric said.
James shrugged. “There is nothing we can do to pressure him. We can only be grateful for an ally in the palace. I cannot imagine there are many men in the walls of the royal palace these days, beside servants and the traitor.”
“Have you considered that King William could be the informant, if he still lives?” asked Brother Victor.
“He is no king,” spat James. “He betrayed us all with his own vanity and stupidity.”
“He was under the sway of witchcraft, much as the entire realm now is, your majesty. Perhaps this is his way of making amends,” the cleric said.
James hesitated. “Perhaps, but I highly doubt it. William was fully in Ursula’s thrall when I last saw him. He willingly handed his crown over to her, just as King Timothy let her have his ring. It is hard to imagine he has been able to keep his mind free of her influence enough to send us messages.”
“You may be right, my lord. But it is also possible that Ursula has become so powerful that she no longer sees William as a threat. We have reports of him appearing in public with her. He is said to be kept as a sort of pet for her amusement,” said Brother Victor. He began to carefully put away the enchanted items used to communicate with their informant.
“A terrible fate, although one he brought on himself,” said James. He held the large ruby and copper weight of his royal amulet protectively. “She wants me as a captive as well. But more than that, Ursula wants the power of my royal amulet. This amulet gives me authority over matters of magic, faith, and heart. With it, she could access the very matter of intention in the people of her self-styled realm of Femnoria. As long as I have it, the spirit of rebellion lives on, and you can continue to practice your magic. If she were to take it, her control would be complete and her witches would reign supreme. We must not let that happen.”
“Agreed,” the cleric said, nodding. “But our strength has been much reduced. We no longer have information about what is happening beyond the mountains. Our men have all been shrunken down to rather diminutive heights. Few among us are even five feet tall. Ursula could bottle us up in this valley and siege us with over a thousand towering female warriors – not to mention her sorceresses. But if we abandon our fortress, we will become scattered, weaker. Or, we could flee abroad, and appeal to one of our neighbours. You spoke several weeks ago of trying to contact the chieftains of the Stammelands. I rejected the notion at the time, but that was before…the changes.”
James stroked his beard in thought. “I must think on this.”
“We do not have much time, your majesty,” said Brother Victor.
“I know, I know,” James replied, waving his hand. “But such a decision cannot be made hastily. The entire realm rests in the balance. I will have an answer for you in the morning.”
James moved to the door and pushed it open. Outside, Ava stood in the hall, lit by grey natural light coming in from a small window. Her light brown hair was pulled back in a loose bun, with wispy bangs framing her pretty face. She was not wearing a dress today. Ever since the news of Ursula’s advance, many of the women had begun to train alongside the men in the martial skills, readying for possible combat. Ava was wearing a tight pair of trousers tucked into black knee-high boots. A thick belt that could theoretically support the weight of a scabbard rested above her hips, and a dark blue tunic was tucked into her belt, giving her an athletic yet curvy profile.
Ava’s lips lifted in a smile when she saw James. “Did you receive any important news?”
King James still struggled daily to mentally adapt to his new height, and he had to remind himself to ignore that fact that he barely came up to Ava’s shoulders. He lifted his gaze from the level of her prodigious breasts to meet her eyes. “Yes. Ursula is on the march. She will be climbing up the valleys to attack us very soon,” James said.
“Oh no!” Ava responded, her eyes wide as she looked down at James. “What will you do?”
“Well perhaps you can help me,” the king said. He turned in the direction of his chambers and placed his hand on the small of Ava’s back. “I must consider my options.”
“Of course, my handsome king.” Ava smiled and moved toward their chambers beside her betrothed. “See, I knew you would have a plan.”
James smiled, nodding, even as he felt a rising panic in his heart about what to do. Yet somehow, just being in Ava’s presence made all his problems seem to fade a bit. She made him feel safe…secure. Ava placed her hand on James’ back, between his shoulder blades, and rubbed gently, comforting him. He dropped his own hand from her back and leaned slightly against her body as they entered his chambers, no longer feeling the need to keep up the peacocking of authority and control for his men.
“Oh, you’re so affectionate my king,” Ava mused.
“Please, call me James. You know I hate it when you act so formal.”
“Well, alright James,” Ava laughed a bit. “It’s a hard habit to break, but I guess things are a bit different now that we are betrothed.”
“Exactly.” James nodded and closed the door behind them. They were alone now. He looked up at Ava, meeting her light brown eyes as she looked down at him. Ava leaned down slightly and she kissed him on the lips. She pushed her hand into his long blond hair, caressing his beard with her thumb and cupping the back of his head in her palm. James kissed Ava back, tasting her mouth and feeling her full pouty lips against his. He rested his hand on her hip and lost himself in their kiss for a moment.
Ava finally lifted her head and smiled down at him, stroking his thick mane of hair. “Mmm…I like kissing. It would be even better without that beard in the way,” she said.
James touched his overgrown beard. “Oh is my beard scratching you?”
“No, it’s actually quite soft. It’s cute,” Ava said. “But it would be nice to kiss your cheeks and neck.”
“Well…I had been thinking of trimming it in preparation for combat. But winter is coming and it is nice to have a beard.”
“You can always grow it back if you’re too cold. Women seem to do just fine without them though.” Ava laughed softly and ran the backside of her fingers down the side of his face with a tender touch.
James turned his face and kissed her fingers. “That’s true. I would love to feel your kisses on my neck.”
“Mmm,” Ava moaned, feeling his mouth against her hand. She pushed her hips against James and they tumbled into bed. Ava straddled the small king and sat on his pelvis, her soft yet firm buttocks pressed down on James and she felt his member stiffen under her.
James bucked a little, pushing upward into Ava’s weight. The soft yet bouncy yield of her perfect ass cheeks made his cock turn rock hard. The two of them shifted and adjusted their clothing, pulling down trousers and opening buttoned flaps, each desperate for the intimacy of sex. Ava shifted, positioning herself over James’ shaft, which he pushed into place under her mound. She lowered slowly and both of them moaned as James slid deep inside his fiancée.
“Oh Ava,” James gasped.
“Yes my king, show me how much a man you are,” Ava cooed, bouncing a little on his member, working it deeper inside her warm gripping tunnel.
James began to thrust, matching Ava’s bouncing ride. The pair moved into the sweet rhythm of sex, causing the wooden bed to creak in time to their passionate lovemaking. James looked up at Ava’s angelic face, watching her eyes flutter in pleasure with each thrust. Her top was open, revealing her big breasts, which bounced perkily as Ava quickened the pace. Moving his hands over her smooth perfect skin, James moaned and felt himself approaching climax.
“Yes James, yes, yes!” Ava cried out breathily. “Harder, deeper.”
James pushed up into his fiancée, grunting with effort and smiling at the reward of hearing Ava’s moans. Sex with her made him feel like the king he was. His troubles melted away in the gasping heights of his passion. Soon the shivering feeling of an orgasm swept through him, and he cried out, arching his back under Ava. Sensing his climax, Ava quickened her pace and gripped the bed covers with her hands, still straddling him, in a feral cat-like position over James’ body. Her breasts hung over his face as she began to experience her own orgasm. The two lovers fell into each other’s arms in a panting afterglow of pure hedonism. James’ revelled in the soft yet heavy weight of Ava. Her breasts mashed against his shoulders and neck, and her loose hair spilled around his head. Ava’s smooth belly rested against his torso and his legs were tangled in hers. James breathed hard against Ava’s cleavage, which was mashed against his face, and tried to move. But her weight made any movement a major effort. James relaxed and enjoyed the feeling of Ava’s feminine curves pushing down against his body. He could smell the foreign oils she used to perfume her hair. Before James realized it, he’d fallen asleep.