CYOA 11 - Story (Patreon)

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Leaning against her staff, the overtaxed cleric closed her eyes.  Pain crossed her face, forcing her to jerk her head with a hiss as she traced the metaphysical lines of magic connecting her to the small group.  The jewels laced throughout her hair sparkled for a moment before going dark.

Thel glanced over her shoulder towards the corridor.  She shuffled, wanting to speak, to hurry the girl.  Whatever bothered the cleric would surely only grow worse with each passing second.  The paladin ground her teeth while reaching up to scratch her jaw, dragging a nail against the skin.  And the itching fur beneath.  The beast within lay in wait, always.

Patience, she told herself while stifling a growl.  She ran her large hand through her hair, squeezing her ear briefly.  They lay open, the curved edges flat with a few wisps of black hair sticking out from around the tips.  Her rough thumb and pointer finger rasped together against the skin and hairs when she rubbed the very top of her ear.  It unfurled, reaching upward into a thick, rounded point.  The wrong decision will only make things worse.

"I- I can't see clearly," Rielle said finally.  Her shoulders drooped as she tightened her fist against her staff to keep herself standing.  "I can feel my lingering connection with the mage but it's terribly weak.  Still.  There's something there.  A resistance.  I just can't tell if it's a hold-over from my magic or something new."

"And the others?" Thel asked, searching the cleric's face with her sharp, golden eyes.

"Something malignant awaits," the cleric whispered, her eyes looking far into the distance.  "I felt their presence vanish, overwhelmed by something dark.  Its discordant voice echoes in the spiritual realm when I pray to my goddess."

Thel rubbed her ear once more, turning now completely towards the corridor.  Her elongated canines grinded together while she thought through her decision.  Hairs flowed down the backs of her ears, lifting as they emerged until they surrounded the base of her ears before continuing down to the corner of her jaw, dotting her flaring muscles with noticeable black stubble.  She huffed and scratched behind her ear until she reached a decision.

"We follow Bertram and Alphene," Thel said firmly, nodding with her decision.  She scratched the base of her ear once more before reaching down to tighten the straps on her scabbard.  Its weight on her hips was comforting and familiar, anchoring her despite all her changes.  "We'll gather both of them before tracking the thief."

"As you say," the cleric agreed.  She stood away from her staff, knuckling her lower back and taking a tentative step.  "I'm feeling better and should be able to keep up as long as we don't need to run.  If- if we have to and I can't keep up, leave me.  My faith will protect me or my goddess will summon me into her halls."

The path was clear through the hallway before it diverged.  For a second, just before the split, Thel caught a rotten scent that made her gag but it faded quickly.  She paused, breathing deeply while peering down the path Wren took.  The odor seemed familiar in a way she couldn't place.  Something recent and terrible but her new senses were still beyond her absolute control, feeding her information at times while denying her the knowledge behind what they meant.

Shaking herself out of her reverie, the paladin took the other path.  It continued forward without deviation for several hundred feet before a path branched off to the right.  She paused, looking between the two directions while rubbing the tips of her canines together.  It was a habit she was developing when uneasy, opening her jaw to touch the extended fangs together, tapping them while she considered her path.

A smell wafted to her slowly, faint and unusual.  Like the earlier smell, it was recently familiar but this one was pleasant.  More than pleasant.

Thel went to one knee with her head cocked.  She breathed deeply and her mouth opened to let more of the scent in.  It was a pink smell.  The woman huffed at that.  

Why pink? she asked herself while placing her hands on the floor.  She closed her eyes and breathed deeply.  Her ears tweaked, bent by tiny muscles and nerves growing in place at the base.

Smells were smells and nothing more.  At least in the past.  Now, she felt the association hit her and it felt proper.  A vibrant pink with slight thrilling purple undertones.  She breathed deeply, eyes closed and her nails dragged against the stone floor when she made fists.  Her tongue slid from her mouth to rest against her lower teeth before she licked her lips to bring it back.  She shivered when the scent invaded her.

"To the right," she said finally, picking herself back up and dusting her knees.  Goosebumps rose over her arms and down her back.  The scent clung to her, plucking the nerves along her core.

The room, she suddenly remembered.  Her golden eyes hardened.  Traces of that same smell after the battle.  Feminine.  Hungry.

"It's-" Thel said out loud before clamping her jaw shut.

"Thel?" Rielle asked quietly behind her.

"Nothing, let's continue," the paladin said.

Fool.  Fool!  she cursed herself, picking up her pace.  She walked close to the wall, breathing in time with her steps.  Bertram's faint odor marked the wall in intervals but it was strongest in the tunnel itself.  Full and strong and thick.  Virile.  Counter to Alphene's arousal and pheromones.  Sending them together without realizing what my nose was trying to tell me!  Damn!

Further the tunnel led and her ears twitched.  She paused, hand on the wall while listening.  The echoes swallowed the noise before she could identify it.

"It diverges again," the cleric said.

Rather than answer, Thel knelt once more.  She huffed, the air coming out roughly in the semblance of a growl.  

The black stubble at the corner of her jaw crept forward, short and scattered.  The hairs pricked her skin when they emerged, shorter and shorter before stopping shy of her chin.

Air wafted through the corridors, swirling Alphene's scent.  Now Thel did growl, tilting her head as she tried to follow the thread.  She leaned forward on her hands and the scraps she wore shifted, exposing wide swaths of her naked body.  Her breasts, already barely contained, slipped free beneath her when she bent to her hands and knees.

She huffed, puffing air in a quick rhythm with her nose nearly touching the ground.  Scenting for her companions like a dog tracking her prey.  Her sword scraped the ground when she moved, walking on all fours.  A few feet away, she stopped to sniff faster.  A tiny dark spot in the dust on the ground betrayed a drop of wetness and it flashed purple and pink in her mind.

Thel turned to her left, still on hands and feet.  Her short, pointed ears strained to twist forward but they were as yet not completely formed.  Alphene's smell grew stronger and Thel swallowed back a moan.  Her whole body burned and the very touch of the straps she wore threatened to distract her from her quarry.  It evoked a sense of need within her and she whined almost inaudibly when an ache formed low in her guts.  Bertram's overtly masculine odor only made it worse.  She could picture him changed.  Huge.  Powerful.  Thick with muscle and-

Cloth touched her nose.  She shoved her face into it, sniffing it with excitement.  It was thick with Alphene's-

"Lady Thel?" Rielle called out, her voice strangely loud in the narrow corridor.

The paladin's eyes flew open.  She was stretched out, her chest low to the ground with her ass raised.  She had the cloth strip in her teeth and her tongue brushed against it.  Tasting it.  Savoring it, grinding her teeth against the fabric and the sweat and sweet taste of cum.  She spat it out with a growl and shoved herself up to stand.  Her cheeks burned fiercely while the tips of her ears bent in an effort to lay flat in shame.

Rielle looked to the side, away from the paladin in order to give the woman some semblance of privacy in order to collect herself.  Only then did the paladin realize her breasts lay exposed.  She turned while grabbing them, biting her lip as she tried to arrange the clothing she wore.  

"This way," Thel said roughly, cursing herself mentally for the display.  Yet her tongue worked against the roof of her mouth, rubbing the taste of Alphene's excitement into her body.

After a curve in the tunnel, the paladin held her hand out, closed into a fist.

Is that... singing? she asked herself while straining her head forward.

---

"What- what are they?" Alphene asked from her hidden vantage point, kneeling on the floor behind the wall that lead into the gigantic chamber.  Bertram bumped into her from the side and she swallowed when she felt his bare skin against hers.

"They're- they're- I know.  I know this one," the man said slowly.  He rubbed his wide chin and stomped his foot, sending a hard echo throughout the corridor from his hoof.  "Water girls.  Spirits.  They have a name.  I even met one before.  Doesn't- doesn't matter.  They're like the ones by trees.  Stay by their source."

"Should we turn around?" the woman asked, watching curiously as the spirits in the other room splashed and laughed.  The blue skinned one slipped into the water, merging seamlessly until she vanished below the depths.  Alphene lifted her delicate chin to scent the air but she smelled nothing but the spray of water.  "Maybe we should go find Thel."

"Nah," Bertram grumbled.  He pawed at his crotch, stroking himself slowly while watching the creatures play.  He grinned, scratching his lightly furred chest with one hand while squeezing the soft furred sheath at the base of his cock.  "They're harmless.  We should- oh, sorry 'bout that."

The man took his hand away from his sheath when Alphene slid away from him.  She held her breath while clutching her necklace, closing her eyes in prayer.

"As long as you don't scare 'em or threaten their home, they're fine," he told her.  "Let's go."

"No, wait!" Alphene hissed, reaching for him as he stepped into the wide chamber.  

The two girls sitting on the edge of her fountain surrounding the base of the waterfall spotted Bertram.  They squealed before pushing off into the water, vanishing as their sister had.  

"Come now!" Bertram boomed with a smile.  He spread his arms wide.  Muscles rippled across his chest and arms and his tail lashed behind him.  The tuft of fur covering the tip brushed against soft hairs erupting from the backs of his massive thighs.  "You're safe with us!"

Water bowed at the edge of the pool, a bubble ready to burst until a mass of mossy hair emerged.  Sharp, curved eyes appeared, followed by a delicate nose and full, emerald lips.

"It sounds like a man but walks like a beast," the girl said carefully.  Her voice chimed like a glass breaking on soft carpet.

"I am a man," Bertram said easily.  His voice, far deeper than before, carried easily through the room despite the waterfall.

Another face, a softer shade of green, appeared beside the first.

"Does it come to drink from our fountain?" the new spirit caused curiously.  "Does it think our pool to be an oasis?  A trough from which to refresh itself before the beast continues its journey?"

"Perhaps it seeks to parlay with our mistress?" the first said.  "Perhaps it yearns to be roasted on a spit.  Like Man does with cattle."

The first spirit giggled at her own joke but Bertram snorted, crossing his arms over his chest.  His tail swished behind him, the thick length bumping over his ass.  His jaw tightened but he held himself steady.

Alphene crept into a room as quietly as possible but both spirits turned to her immediately.

"Oh.  Look, sister," the second spirit said softly.  "Here is the beast's shepherd, come to drive the wayward creature back to her farm."

"He's- he's a man," Alphene stuttered as the two spirits laughed and kicked the water, churning it into white foam.  Waves crashed into the foam, rising into a pillar that became the third spirit, as clear as the calm sea.

"And you're a wolf wearing the trappings of a human," the blue spirit said serenely.

"N- no," Alphene said, hugging herself while staring down at the floor.

"She's a woman," Bertram snarled, stomping forward.  His hooves cracked the ground and veins stood out on his trunk-like neck.  "The only beasts I see are you three.  Is all you know insults?  I don't care what you say about me but she's a good woman, not the butt of your jokes.  And I'm only like this until that stupid potion goes away."

"Peace," the blue spirit said, raising a hand.  Tiny streams poured over her arm to splash into the pool beneath her while the two green spirits vanished into the depths once more.  "We've gone so long without visitors that we've forgotten our manners.  Our mistress has long been in confinement.  Her irritation poisons our well."

"Who's your mistress?" Alphene squeaked.  She hid behind Bertram, clutching onto his arm while peeking out behind him.  

The blue spirit regarded Alphene silently.  After several minutes, she turned to stare at Bertram.

"Are you not here for her?"  the strange woman asked.  Her voice was flat but Alphene's sensitive ears caught a sharp undertone.  Something dangerous.

"No," Bertram grunted.  "We're looking for a mage.  The mage that lives here."

Two green faces appeared in the shimmering light given off by the cascading waterfall.  They solidified into the twin sisters before pulling themselves forward gracefully to stand beside the third.

"Why?"

"He's hurt a lot of people."

Again the spirit fell silent before settling her eyes on Alphene.

"My mistress would speak with you."

"M-me?  You m-mean with us?" Alphene stuttered again.  She clenched her hands on Bertrams arm and he pressed back against her.

"No," the spirit told her.  "Men are repugnant to her, regardless of the species. Worse, she's been alone for so long."

"So long," the two green sisters echoed.

"The sight of one would drive her into a murderous frenzy, despite your intentions," the third sister finished.  "If you truly seek to end the wizard's life, you'll not find a more powerful ally than our mistress."

"Then we'll see her," Bertram said.

"No," the blue-haired woman said.  "Your companion will go alone."

"Isn't- isn't there some way?" Alphene asked.  "If- if she hates the mage so much, maybe she'll make an exception?"

The three spirits giggled but their voices rose into laughter.  They splashed into the water, reformed from quaking waves and then splashed again.  Their chortles echoed throughout the chamber.

A waterspout formed, spiraling upward until light fractured within to trace complex braids.  More water flowed and pushed outward into a face and a fetching, full figure.  Arms split from the spout but she brought them together to form hands, joined at the palms.

The blue spirit pulled her hands apart slowly to reveal a drop of water suspended between them.  A burst of light from within the drop sent scattered rays outward.  Alphene and Betram shielded their eyes until the light faded, leaving a rose-colored drop of water wobbling above the spirit's right hand.

"Yes.  There's a way," the spirit said softly, her words carrying over the roar of the waterfall.

She smiled at Alphene with a slight bow of her head before looking towards Betram.

"Come, Man, and drink," the spirit told him.  "And be accepted within my mistress's presence."

"That's it?" Bertram snorted.  "Why all the fuss and drama?"

The ranger stepped forward but Alphene's eyes widened as she realized the implication of the gesture. She grabbed the man's forearm and he turned to her, annoyed by her interference.

"W- Wait!" Alphene yelled.

---

Just wait, Wren told himself while staring at Myril.  She flickered briefly as he clutched the feather and his eyes traced her naked body.

Stunted twin tentacles lifted from her back.  The spade ends tilited, bending and turning towards him as if they had eyes and knew of his intentions.  Nightmarish black hooks pierced the scarlet skin at the ends of her tentacles.  They pulled against her, twisting and writhing against the triangular patch of dense, oily sable fur that half-covered her back.

Two lines of flesh rose from the base of the tentacle, separating from her body to leave both tentacles longer than before.  The missing pieces of skin healed quickly.

He followed the muscular curves of her slim back and narrow hips with his eyes.  But not so narrow as before.  

No, no, no, not so small as before, he told himself, admiring her body.  Not so bony and hard, no.  All that soft flesh now, ready to be grabbed.  Ready for my claws to dig into.  Pressing against my scales, yes.  Warmth against me.  Padded when I pound into you, yes, yes.

His uneven, broken nails continued to grow, dense and yellow.  They curled downward an inch away from the tips of his fingers and he clawed his chest.  Dead skin fluttered away to reveal translucent pink scales.  Blood pooled in his mouth when his tongue pushed against the molars in the back of his jaw.  One pushed free and he spat it to the side.  The rounded tip of a new fang peeked through the gap left behind in his gums.

Myril vanished into a puff of black smoke but reappeared just as quickly on the other side of the hole in the wall.  Fur dotted her ass and the cheeks shifted beneath her tail when it brushed back and forth behind her.

Wren snarled silently, crushing his bumpy, swollen cock in his hand.  He could almost see her pussy and the memory of it filled him suddenly.  

A single dark spine pierced the back of his tunic, easily parting the material as it slid through.  Pain threatened to distract him from the memory of Myril writhing behind him, prone and wet and soft.  Pores opened along his spine and keratin issued forth, forming into more spines that split his shirt.  He clawed at his chest to expose more scales, creamy white and as soft as flesh until they began to harden and darken in the air.

Movement on Myril's side made Wren's eyes narrow.  They compressed vertically as he watched a small lump of flesh push away from the girl's body.  Five smaller lumps at the end of the new appendage opened and closed.  The girl ignored it as it quested outward, lengthening as flesh and muscle and bone filled it and the rough shape of a new, thin arm took place.  Her tail and tentacles flailed behind her before settling.

"Movement down below," Myril whispered.

Wren clawed at the ground and stretched out, raising his back into an arc as his spines finished growing.  He shook his body and the spines bent to lay nearly completely flat against his back.  The pain faded and the scuttled forward, hiding the feather against his side.  Capillaries burst in his eyes, flooding the white with red as yellow lines appeared in his irises.

Crude huts were scattered among colossal stalagmites in an endless cavern beyond the hole in the wall.

"We should go look," he told her.  "Could be survivors.  Could be-"

Prey, he finished mentally.  Trapped by the mage.  Kept hostage as slaves to work the mines.  Chained and tethered.  The women would be held elsewhere to cook and clean.  Apart from the men.  Easy picking.  Take them all.  Kill their men and take them.  Breed them.  Fill their bellies with our seed.

Myril flickered in place.  The arm low on her side clutched the wall beside her.  It was pink and unmarked with fur in a strange contrast to the rest of her body.  She turned to him and he smiled at her.

"You go ahead of me," she told him, stepping away from the hole.

"Yes, yes, fine, fine," he nodded.

The spines flattened against his back when he sought to portray himself as harmless as possible.  They blended in with his tunic in the darkness while he pushed his legs through the hole in the wall.  He slid for a moment before catching himself.

Myril appeared soundlessly behind the mage.  She stretched out on hands and feet with her second pair of arms clutching nearby handholds.  Dark fur covered the base of the arms and the backs of the new hands now.  Her long, lean body moved effortlessly along the ground as she followed him down the sloping rock wall, moving slowly in the near darkness.

"Smells," Myril hissed, wrinkling her nose.  Her short, furred face was tipped by a small, triangular black nose above her split cat-like lip.  

Dull pain throbbed from the tips of Wren's feet.  His toenails grew out, pushing against the inside of his boot and cramping his feet.  He reached beneath him, tugging the boots off to leave them behind.  The relief was immediate.  Inky coloring filled the translucent toenails as they bulged up and away from his toes.  He took a step and the new claws struck the rock.  He curled his toes  as if to grip the flooring causing tiny sparks to erupt when his claws scraped the rugged ground.

They continued down, watching for sentries until they reached the floor of the cavern.  Wren looked up, tracing the path they took.  The hole they entered through was completely invisible.

We're free, the voice whispered.  She'll never find us.  We can run.  Find a new nest.  Take the elf and some slaves.  Drag them behind, kicking and screaming until we find a dark room.  They'll be the mother to our children, yes.  Yes, yes, yes.

Thel can track her, he whined to himself as they hid behind a ringed stalagmite.  He licked his lips and looked up but couldn't find the end of it.

We'll break it like we break her, the voice moaned.  We can, we can.  Do it.  Use it.  Do it!

Wren touched the stone before him while circling around as if to check the area.  Myril stepped back from him.  She glanced around, suddenly on alert.

"There's-" she started to say.

The mage took advantage of her focused distraction, kicking from the wall with the feather in his hand.  She turned to him slowly as a black mist formed around her and the color of her fur shifted, transitioning from magenta to brown to purple and black again.  He pressed the feather to her chest, directly against a patch of skin without fur.

"Down!" he snarled at her.

Myril collapsed beneath him as the feather guttered into golden flames that puffed into nothingness.  Her tentacles trembled weakly but barely stirred as her eyes swiveled towards him with pure hatred.  The mage leaned over her, licking her cheek as he pressed his cock against her, rubbing its monstrous girth against her ass.

"Thought you could cow me, did you?" he hissed.  "Thought you could put me on a leash and pull me wherever you wanted?  Thought you could restrain me?!"

Spittle flew from his mouth.  He turned to spit.  More teeth clattered against stone.  His face burned.  Skin stretched over his jaw, straining before tearing to reveal white scales.  He grabbed her wrists, pushed her tentacles to the side and lay against her back.  The tip of his cock dribbled cum against the fur on her ass as he grinded against her.

"You'll bear my children," he whispered to her.  "Chained to a wall, endlessly pregnant with babies suckling from your teats and I'll spend every.  Single.  Night.  With you."

"-know why I have to-" a voice said, growing louder until a man in rough spun clothes rounded the stalagmite.

Wren snarled and his spines stood on end as he looked up at the shocked man.

"N- no!  What are- you have to rrruuuaaaah!" 

The man dropped to his knees with his hands to his sides.  Teeth cracked on an elongating jaw as his incisors crowded his growing mouth.  A fleshy, hairless tail burst out behind him while brown, shaggy fur began to spread along his body.  The man screeched, clawing at his changing face with long, bony fingers and narrow claws.  

Wren saw muscles bunch in the man's thighs.  Hardened lines appeared beneath the man's legs, outlining bulging muscles.  Ready for leaping.