This is a story about a foolish Prince, an evil sorcerer, and the misuse of a magical artifact of great power . . . mischief and chaos ensue.

The seeds of evil that have taken root are now in full-bloom. Horus is about to learn that wits and magic aren't enough to control a kingdom.

The line of men moved silently through the water of the river Vanna. Kyler led them up to the drainage pipe under the east bank of the castle. As each warrior rose from the water the sliver of moon showed only dark clothes and blackened skin. The men were like shadows as the worked up, one at a time, into the pipe. Each man had been chosen for his small size and ability to move undetected. They were considered the finest scouts and hunters of the Northmen. Kyler climbed into the pipe last, his large body a tight squeeze and if he got stuck he didn’t want to hold up the team, yet he was determined to led this band.

The cold of fall in the north of Hyboria had the men shivering even with the layer of cow grease they’d slathered onto their bodies before entering the cold water. A few feet in the pipe expanded so they could move from a low crawl to a hunched over walk. Thirty feet from the opening they came to a set of iron bars that secured this entrance. Kyler reached into the sheath at his leg and drew out the diamond toothed saw Duke Alaric had given him. He passed it forward in the line until the warrior at the front had it.

The man, Arlo, went to work on the bars. The soft sound of the saw cutting metal and the drip of water were the only noises within the tunnel. Kyler kept a count in his head as the seconds flew by. The timing was going to be close but it should work out. He thought he could see, in his mind’s eye, the House Carls of Alaric’s family mounting up, moving to the tree-line just beyond sight of the southern bridge into Castletown. At the first hint of predawn they’d move, knowing the scouts were already in place to either side of the bridge. When they thundered down the road the scouts would swarm up over the sides and onto the bridge behind the bridge gate. Any guards unlucky enough to be stationed there would be ended quickly and the gate opened before the thunder of the charging Northmen.

They’d race through town ignoring everyone and everything until they arrived at the castle gate. It was his band’s job to have that gate open. Just then a soft grunt of satisfaction could be heard from Arlo as he set the first bar to one side. ‘Two more and we’re through.’ Kyler thought.

Nefertari, in Oberon’s flesh released a heavy stream of piss into the jake in the wash-closet of the royal apartments. The ability to stand and pee, directing a heavy stream of urine into the hole was one of her favorite parts about being male. Finished, she shook her heavy flaccid cock and tucked it under her royal robes. Nefertari quickly moved through the royal apartment to the bedchamber and paused to look down at the naked forms of the two luckiest wenches in the realm. They were both were beautiful, blonde, and had the enormous breasts Nefertari had grown to love.

Once Nefertari had gotten a swallow of Horus’s elixir into them they’d become inexhaustible and more than eager. It didn’t matter if he plunged his cock into one while she ate the other woman’s pie, the enthusiasm, the desire to do anything to sate their physical needs, was all they could think of while under the influence of the magical elixir. The power of her large male body, the authority over all within the realm, being King, it was the sweetest nectar Nefertari had ever drunk. She knew, now that she had a taste of power, that she’d never give this up. In the time that Nefertari had been ruling Vannaheim she’d discovered two new things about herself. Queen Viveca annoyed her and she had an insatiable lust for big breasted blonde women.

The annoyance had been dealt with swiftly enough. During the first full moon of her reign she’d borrowed the Ring from her master and used it to first possess and then transform the overly watchful Master-at-Arms, Gunter, into a youthful version of Viveca. Instead of the matron of forty-five winters Gunter was the woman Viveca had been at twenty-five. Five years after she’d given birth to Caspar. It was amazing how, once gowned and cowled, so that every inch of skin, except her beautiful face, was covered the younger version of Viveca looked like the older. Later, Gunter, at the “king’s” command, had confided to the court ladies that Horus, the Court Sorcerer had given her a tonic that had restored her youth. This had sent the women at court all a twitter.

Most of that night had been spent, with the help of Horus potion, teaching Gunter her new place in life. Her screaming submission and wiggling need to be filled still gave Nefertari a raging erection. Viveca at twenty-five had been a vision of beauty with great succulent globes of flesh on her chest and blonde hair. Nefertari had enjoyed every moment of Gunter’s training. The power to take the mighty warrior and reduce him to a quivering slut had filled Nefertari with glee. Then leaving the new Queen sated, exhausted, and asleep Nefertari had once again take up the ring. It’s powers were active only for three nights and she knew she had to make use of them quickly. She doubted Horus would loan her the ring next month. It still troubled Nefertari that Horus hadn’t been able to find necklace!

The apartments of the Queen were only a short way from the King’s and using the private hidden passage that connected the suites Nefertari had arrived unseen on silent feet. Settling into a chair in the queen’s boudoir Nefertari used Horus’s ring to possess Viveca. Once in control of the queen’s body she took the ring and slid it on. Then pulling the slutty smock of a slave girl Nefertari selected earlier in the week, from the pouch at Oberon’s belt, she said, “Invoca.”

The transformation from stately Queen-mother into a sixteen-year old blonde slave-girl had taken seconds. With the transformation complete she moved to the mirror. Running youthful hands over the amazing body she’d picked out for the queen gave Nefertari a thrill. The blonde slave-girl’s peasant body had been built for pleasure and bearing children. Nefertari intended to provide the new slave with plenty of both. Nerertari returned the ring to Oberon’s finger and then using the hidden passage Nefertari traveled to the king’s apartment. Once there she went to the King’s sitting room and opened a secret panel that led to a chamber that none except Oberon, and now Nefertari, knew about.

The room was small and sparsely furnished, a table with a chair next to it and a pile of furs. There was a rack to one side filled with chains, whips, and other devices whose purpose Nefertari knew well. The discovery of this room of hidden, sadistic, pleasure had surprised Nefertari. Settling the queen’s new body into the firs she snapped a slave collar around her neck. The collar was attached by a long chain to the wall and would give the slave some room to move, but not too much. Then she settled back into the furs and said, “Reditum.” A wind lifted the spirit of Nefertari up and she rushed through the walls returning to her Oberon body. With a pleased chuckle, she stood up and stretched, she was tired from her night’s work and looked forward to settling in beside the youthful form of the new queen for several hours of well-deserved rest. As she returned to her bed Nefertari thought about how she planned to spend her day. She’d already cleared most of her schedule. Before the day was over the two transformed women would know that they were her play things. That their happiness and wellbeing depended on following orders and pleasing the King! The use of the magical elixir and the power of the ring, forcing them to chant their new names, admit their love of their new bodies, and in Gunter’s case his new gender, over and over had worked. The magic was insidious and by the third day all signs of defiance had vanished.

Now, weeks after she’d used the ring on them she looked down at Gunter-in-Viveca and Viveca-in-Unna, the slave. Their naked bodies lay entwined golden hair spread across the bed. ‘Yes, life as the lord and master of the realm is the life I was born too.’

The call of a sentry using the night’s password to identify himself to his counterpart and the soft response had become routine. Nefertari moved to the open window and pulled it closed. The cold night air had felt good after the heat she and her two wenches had generated. Now with the fire nothing more than coals the chamber felt cool. With a satisfied smirk Nefertari climbed into bed pushing her way between the sleeping women thinking it would be Gunter’s turn to please the royal penis with her mouth in the morning.

Horus stood in his tower staff in one hand, body painted with glyph’s from far off Stygia, and watched as the vision faded from the scrying bowl. He leaned on the staff feeling tired and knew that if he hadn’t had the youthful power of his current body he’d never have made it through the night’s casting. His first task had been to check in on a certain soul in the underworld. The sight of Oberon, satisfying the lusts of the Deamon she’d been gifted too, had been like a balm to his shriveled soul. Revenge was sweet.

Then using a bowl he’d spied out his ancient enemy in Stygia. The Sorcerer-priest was still wearing the, now middle aged, body he’d stolen from his most recent apprentice. For a moment, Horus felt sorry for the apprentice, then dismissed the feeling as wasted. He had endured having his body stolen by Maalik many years ago. It was Maalik’s graduation test for each apprentice he took on. To be placed into his ancient body and then turned lose in the desert. The spell to swap bodies was only shown the one time Maalik used it to take his apprentice’s body but that one time had been enough for Horus.

He’d walked all night refusing to give in to thirst or fatigue. By the middle of the next day he was barely aware of his surroundings, due to exhaustion and dehydration. A small merchant caravan had found him and the daughter of the merchant had taken pity on the old frail wanderer. Thinking he was a wandering holy man she’d brought him water and had ordered him placed into a shaded tent, so she could tend to him. Once able to speak Horus had whispered the words to the spell and powered it with the life force of his former master’s frail body. His soul had taken the girl’s body and sent her soul into the abyss. The harsh payment for her kindness had taught Horus a final lesson. There was no place in the world for mercy.

Sadly, the girl had no talent for magic. It had taken Horus ten years, one marriage, and two children before he’d saved enough power together to cast the spell again. This time he’d taken the body of a young warrior and using it had traveled the land looking for a new body with real sorcerous talent. He’d found a boy seven years later. The boy was only fifteen but he had a powerful gift. Horus had saved up enough power by then to caste the spell. This time his victim had been eager to trade. The voices he heard in his head scared him. Without training or understanding the raw-wild magic was driving him insane.

Horus had no trouble, with his training, in taming the magic. The boy now in the body of a twenty-seven-year-old warrior had sworn service to Horus. This had opened Horus’s eyes. He could survive on his own, but to thrive he needed servants. He could coerce them but if they served willingly he’d not have to worry about a knife in the back. He had then traveled to the coast and using his power to help the wealthy, built up enough money to build his tower.

Then fifteen years after settling into his tower and beginning the first steps at revenge on Maalik, a raiding ship had struck during the night. The raider had been a young Prince Oberon excited to raid into the far south and bring back riches. Horus had been enslaved before he knew what was happening. Now, glancing over at the mirror he laughed. He’d turned that set back into the greatest gain possible. Horus controlled an entire kingdom.

The situation couldn’t have been better, Horus thought. Nefertari the pleasure slave had a need to dominate those around her, but particularly strong warriors. She had been taken during a raid as a small girl and her body trained and used to give pleasure. It was a small thing to loan her the ring so she could enjoy her new status. What was surprising was how well she played her role as King. Her decisions in court had been prudent and Horus was free to continue his own pursuits. These pursuits consisted of two things; magic and his new wife.

Taking Sanja within minutes of killing her husband had been one of the greatest pleasures of Horus life. The first time he’d set his eyes upon her he felt lust burn within his ancient bones. When he’d come to her, to explain everything his magic could do she’d laughed at him. When she’d accepted Caspar, King Oberon’s waste of a son, as her husband Horus had destroyed his tower sitting room in a fit of rage. He slowly started his plot to steal the prince’s body. This time though he had to be cleverer. He not only needed the body, but the skills and memories to fool a court and kingdom. This went beyond his simple body-swap spell. He needed to craft an artifact of power that would do everything he needed.

Then Horus discovered that that Caspar had a gift for magic! With that knowledge, his plan was sealed. Caspar’s youthful body would be the next home for his blackened soul. He had done everything he could to encourage Caspar to drink, carouse, and spend his time sleeping with every wench in the realm. To his surprise a bored Caspar had commissioned the very thing Horus most longed to create.

Laughing he shook his head and started to clean the symbols from his body. It had been more than two months since he took Caspar’s body and he would never forget the look of stunned surprise on Caspar’s ebony face when the man he thought was his father drove a knife into his throat. This train of thought led Horus to thinking of his wife. She was truly stunning now in late pregnancy. Horus knew she could deliver anytime. Watching her waddle from room to room during the day and thrusting his royal cock into her delightful pussy at night filled him with joy. He’d lain in bed a few nights ago, having sated his lust, and watched the babies in her womb move.

“I’ve never been a father before.” he murmured. The thought of his wife filled him with need and looking out the tower window he saw the first rays of sun start to illuminate the horizon. “I’m done here, I could return to her chamber and greet her as a husband should greet a wife.” The decision made Horus started to clean up. The scrying had told him what he’d needed to know. The location of his former master and how best to start to bring about his down fall. “I think it might be time to raid, once again, into Stygia. A surprise attack with a few hundred warriors might be just the thing!”

The sound of hooves echoing through the town startled Horus. ‘That’s odd, probably a messenger.’ he thought. With a sigh, he put aside the idea of spending the morning riding his gravid wife’s pussy and figured he’d need to put on robes of state and join Nefertari in the Great Hall. A messenger this early meant important news.

Caspar had never been patient as a man. Now, as a woman, she’d learned patients. Even though he had the necklace, it had failed him. It had failed that night more than two months ago when she’d tried to use it to return to her body. In desperation, she decided to find Horus and get him to fix it. Instead of rushing to the Court Sorcerer the day after she knew her beloved Sahja had been replaced, she’d waited. Her first opportunity had arrived the next day when the false Caspar and his father had gone for an afternoon ride. Careful trying her best to avoid attention she’d used a hidden way to get close to the tower entrance. The climb to Horus chamber, in her condition, had proved exhausting. When there was no answer to her knock she’d used her slim lady’s dagger to open the latch and slip inside.

The shadows had been thick and her heart had raced as she called out, “Horus? Horus, where are you?” Then her feminine shriek echoed around the room and her hands flew to her mouth when she’d spotted the bodies of Horus and his slave Nefertari.

“What ill deed has been done?”

Her knees went weak she settled to the floor tears streaking down her ivory face. She hadn’t been close to the sorcerer, yet she’d known him her whole life. To see him lying there, dead, was crushing. What was worse was the realization that she was on her own. Stuck in the frail body of a woman, with the second most powerful man in the land pretending to be her husband. For a moment, she considered going to the king or queen, but they’d never believe her. The fake prince had mastered Caspar’s every gesture, his manner of speech, and knew all the servants by name. If the necklace had been working she could have demonstrated its power and her parents would have believed, but not now.

“I must escape.”

The idea came to her and she knew it was her only course. But to run would invite a chase. Besides, where could she go? She was the Princess, the wife of the Crown Prince, his property. All the law in the north would be against her. Anyone she fled to would be honor bound to return her to her husband.

Feeling alone and depressed Caspar returned to her apartment. She settled into Sanja’s favorite chair and picked up the needle work she’d set aside. The act of stitching a pattern into the fabric was soothing and as her anxiety decreased she thought of Sanja’s family. Her father, Erick, the Baron of Turvasatama was a thin man of average height. He was not well known as a fighter, but he was perhaps the greatest general in Vanaheim. The trade City of Gildar had been given to her father when he supported Oberon’s father during the unification of Vanaheim. Since taking the fiefdom it had thrived under Erick’s rule. Sanja’s family was the richest in Vanaheim next to the royal family.

Erick had married the daughter of one of the northern chieftains much to the annoyance of the southern nobility. Sanja’s mother was taller than Erick and had hair that matched Sanja’s fiery locks. Her four older brothers were large men, powerful warriors physically taking after their mother’s kin. They’d also inherited Erick’s quick wit and keen mind and had made a name for the Turvasatama family by raiding into the southern lands.

Then a memory came to Caspar. It was the night before Sanja had traveled north to Castletown to marry Prince Caspar. Gunther had taken Sanja for a walk through the family garden. Sanja as a girl had always loved this place, the colorful flowers, the sweet scents, the happy smiles of her mother as she worked with the flowers. It was a safe place, a happy place, Sanja had treasured it. The memory was so strong that Caspar felt an almost physical need to be there, to see this amazing garden. Gunther handed her a small leather bag.

“Sister, once you are Prince Caspar’s wife, you won’t be able to leave or even send us a message without the royal family knowing.” Sanja had nodded nervously. “Within the bag is a powder. Toss a pinch of it into the fire in your rooms or a small brazier and the flames will turn blue. While they are blue speak and I will hear your words.”

“How can this be?” she asked. Sanja’s voice was full of awe.

“I have a brazier in my room, crafted by a Shaman of the North. It is ready for a fire but not lit. When you send a message, it will catch fire. I will then use the same powder to change the flame and will hear your words.” Then Gunther took her by the shoulders forcing her to look at him. “Be not afraid little one. If you need us, we will come.”

Now sitting in her rooms Caspar knew it was time. Setting aside the needle work she ran her hands over her swollen belly feeling the royal twins move around. The thought hit her, if Sanja was no longer in her former royal body, who now controlled it? And, more importantly, where was Sanja? Knowing she’d get no answers without acting she got out the powder and threw a pinch into the fire place.

There was a burst of light, but no heat and then a blue eldritch flame danced around the logs. “Gunther, brother, I am desperate. I don’t know what to do. Foul magic has run-amok within the castle. My husband isn’t himself. It is his body but some other being wears it like a mask. I fear for my life and my unborn children. Help.”

Then she settled back and watched as the flames danced for several more minutes until without warning the vanished. “Now, I must wait.”

The days had dragged by and Caspar seemed to jump at shadows. The false Prince visited her every night using her body for his pleasure without more than a few words. If he was unhappy with her performance Caspar was forced to drink the elixir Horus had introduced him to when he’d still been a man. Caspar now hated it. The feeling of fire that ran through her veins, the loss of control, the need to feel a man inside her, no matter the cost, she hated those feelings but couldn’t contradict her husband.

Two weeks into her ordeal she’d figured out that the single biggest difference between Sanja-Caspar and the imposter was that this version of the prince had no mercy, no kindness. He arrived, used her body for his pleasure, and left. Sanja-in-Caspar had always stayed spending the night. They’d held each other and Sanja had told stories of her youth or had explained how he’d spent his day. He’d asked her about her day and laughed at Caspar’s jokes. Those moments, now looking back, were as precious as any treasure Caspar had been given.

Lying awake in bed, nine weeks after the change in the prince, she knew it was time. The message she’d received from Gunther had startled her. She’d been sitting alone one afternoon, doing needlepoint, when the flame of the lamp next to her elbow and turned blue. Scrambling Caspar found the powder and sprinkled a pinch over the lamp’s flame. The voice was one she’d only heard once in real life but instantly recognized from Sanja’s memories.

“Little-one. We have your message. There have been rumors that we refused to believe. We are moving, now. Don’t be afraid. Find a warrior you can trust and fourteen days after the next full moon stay in your apartment. Don’t come out until you hear my voice at your door.”

With the dawn-light coming in through her window two weeks after the full moon she felt like she had nothing to lose. Going to her jewelry cabinet Caspar retrieved the necklace and tucked it out of sight between her enormous breasts. Then she hurried to the door to her chamber. When she opened it, she saw the two guards the “Prince” had ordered there. This was another change made by the imposter. It had started just after the first full moon; she was guarded, at all times. It was as if the false prince knew that she’d sensed a change in him and was worried that she might try to escape. Although in her current condition she’d not get far.

When Caspar had asked about them she’d been told that she was too precious to risk, particularly now that she was about to deliver the royal heir. They were always the same ten guards taking turns around the clock, watching her in pairs most of the time. The false Caspar had called them his “Novi-Bellator” and had laughed when she’d ask why these ten.

Caspar now knew them all by name and seeing that there were only two addressed the larger of the pair. “Cord, could you help me? The fire within my chamber has gone out and I’m cold and it is difficult for me to bend over these days.” As she said this she rubbed her immense belly.

“From the sounds of the other night, I’d say the fire in your chamber burned hot.” Jung the younger of the two guards said, just loud enough to be overheard but softly enough to be ignored. “I’m sure the Prince had to bend her over to get the fire going just right.” Cord the older and the veteran of the two murmured. Then he turned to Caspar.

“I’d be happy to help, ma’am.”

Caspar ground her teeth and ignored the lewd comments. Shutting the door behind him she moved to a chair facing the fireplace. In desperation, as the guard got down on his knees to go to work, she grasped the pendant and whispered, “Invoca.”

The wave of magic that hit her was stunning, and familiar. Slowly, she looked up from where she knelt by the fire place and blinked owlishly before glancing over at her feminine body as it slept in the chair.

“By the gods! It worked! I’m a man again.” Caspar stood up and realized she could take back her royal-body. She could put the false Caspar into any body she wanted and then question him as to the location of the real Sanja. Once she’d rescued Sanja she would reclaim Sanja’s luscious female body as her own and gift her former royal male-body to Sanja. They would stay husband and wife only now Caspar knew that she no longer wished to be the prince or to rule the kingdom. Instead, she would bear many fine sons to her lord husband and enjoy watching them grow to manhood. “I will save you my love.” Then it hit her. ‘What has Gunther planned?’

Feeling awkward and off balance as she stood up. Caspar grimaced at the annoying protrusion between her legs. She reached up with one hand to rub her chest already missing her breasts. “I had best take his place for now. I don’t know either of these two, they might be in league with the false prince.”

Trying her best to remember how to move as a man, Caspar walked with a stiff gate to the door and stepped into the hallway.

“Did you satisfy the princess?”

“And risk the Prince’s wraith? Not likely.”

“A good point. However, if allowed I’d bend that one over, hehehe . . . I can hardly believe it’s been over a month since the Prince took our oaths and switched us with our husbands. Watching Jung waddle around the house, just days away from becoming a mother is worth the exchange alone. Forcing him to service me, just as he’d made me, was one of the sweetest moments of my life! The man knows how to use a woman’s mouth.” Caspar not knowing what to say just laughed. “Then seeing you take Cord in the hayloft behind Pa’s was almost as funny. I almost blew my wad right there, I was so hard. The way you made him squeal admit to being a TRUE woman was the funniest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Caspar just grunted and wondered how many guards had been switched and what else the false Prince might have done? How many of the royal servants were still the people they were supposed to be? What of the nobles?

CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!

The sound of the alarm gong was almost a physical shock. It was quickly followed by horns from the towers and the shouting of men and a thunder of hooves from the courtyard.