((Buckle up folks, this is more of a short story than it is a prompt. Do not say you weren’t warned.)

It began, as these things so often do, with a curse.

An isolated castle perched high above a meagre township. Walled off to all by gothic architecture, and wrought iron woven with the harshest of brambles. A brash Prince turned King by circumstances that had seemed as nefarious as they were convenient. The young monarch’s father had gone to sleep one evening and simply never woken. Found the next day by his wife, her now dearly departed lover’s face twisted into a pale blue scream of betrayal and anguish. No autopsy was required, so ordered by the new King. His father had simply died in his sleep, as men of his age often did.

And so, a new reign was ushered in. A new reign for a new age. But there was no advancement of ideas. There was no resurgence of the new ruler’s kingdom. Instead, an archaic descent into times long forgotten. The farmers and millers and builders below were driven harder than they had ever known. Ordered to increase production in order to satiate the new King’s appetite for the finest food and wine. What he didn’t consume, he would trade to neighbouring City-States for fine silks and jewels, and expertly crafted weaponry that he would never actually wield in combat. The only thing the King grew drunker on than wine… was power.

The Queen-Mother became a hollow, medicated shell of her former, beautiful self. Wandering the castle halls aimlessly with a cup of wine or a tincture of sleeping tonic (or both) in her hands. Her former bedchambers now occupied by her son, and the sounds of what he did to the helpless castle maid staff echoing through the stone halls every night. They emerged every morning with torn clothes, and tear-streaked faces.

Before long, the King’s appetite stretched further than the castle walls, and his most despicable order yet was enacted. So decreed by their new ruler, Prima Nocta was now in effect. Young women plucked from their homes days before their wedding night by the King’s personal guard. And if no weddings were scheduled, women were chosen at random. Thrown screaming over horseback and brought into the otherwise impenetrable castle walls where the young King was waiting with bated breath and rigid cock. He claimed every hole numerous times as his royal birthright. Mothers, daughters, virgins, it made no difference. Once a woman was of legal age in the King’s domain, she was his by right.

But one night... that all changed.

A gorgeous, raven-haired woman arrived at the castle’s gates of her own volition, having made the arduous trek from her dilapidated cottage on the outskirts of the town’s borders. Her usually pale bare feet were filthy with mud, her black cloak and dark tattered skirt clung to her voluptuous body due to the rain and sweat she’d endured on her journey up to the castle. She yelled up at the guards on the rampart, declaring that in a week it would be her wedding night and she would not be plucked from her home like the others. She demanded an audience with the King, demanded that he get his vile practice out of the way now.

When the wrought-iron gates were opened she hadn’t struggled, she hadn’t cried, she had merely nodded and stepped into that towering fortress of depravity with a previously unseen sense of calm. When brought to the King’s chambers, he had been particularly displeased to see there was that usual absence of fear and pleading desperation he had come to expect… but he would see to it that she changed her tune soon enough. He looked at the way her cheap clothes clung to her wide hips and fat, ripe tits. She looked a little old to be a newlywed, but that wouldn’t stop him from enjoying himself.

As the King had advanced, he was stopped in his tracks when the woman spoke. Her tone was harsh and her husky voice cut through the sounds of a worsening squall outside that was battering against the bedchamber windows.

‘You fool of a boy.’ She spat the words with such disdain that the King barely recognised them as speech, so unfamiliar was he with being spoken to like that. ‘I am no bride-to-be, are you so stupid you can’t see that?’

The King shook with rage as his teeth bared in a feral, almost animalistic fury.

‘I’ll have your tongue and your throat for that, you whore!’ the King replied, and then began to advance once more. ‘After I’m done with the rest of you.’

The woman didn’t speak again, but instead raised her hand to her face and raked her nails across her cheek with such vigour that four bright red gouges appeared in their wake. She brandished her bloodied fingers at the confused young King, her fingers contorting into unnatural shapes with rapid precision. Outside, the wind and rain worsened, as a crack of thunder rumbled in the distance.

‘Wha- What is this witchcraft!?’ The King spoke, and then screamed, dropping to his knees as he felt a jolt of pain crackle through his spine unlike anything a man should be able to endure.

‘Just that. Witchcraft.’ The Witch’s voice seemed unnaturally amplified now, filling the room and pulsing against the King’s eardrums painfully. ‘My daughter came of age yesterday. Did you think I’d sit by and wait for you to come for her like you came for the others?’

The King collapsed to the stone floor, writhing and screaming as foam-like spittle splashed from his lolling tongue. His body convulsed violently as he felt some foul corruption begin to grow inside of him.

‘No. I won’t allow it.’ The Witch continued. Her other hand came to her bloodied cheek and smeared scarlet across her face, coating her other hand in fresh blood before continuing her ancient ritual. ‘I choose this. Let the world see you as you truly are. A beast’s visage for a beast of a King. A foul demon that deserves no love… no admiration… no followers!’

With each emphatic word the King’s body snapped and convulsed as a change began to overtake him. His blonde hair began to darken to a midnight black and grow long, as ram-like horns erupted from atop his head. His olive skin was reddening like that of the demons that priests would warn waited below the earth for the worst of the sinners. His screams turned into roars and his teeth grew inside his jaw, until he was gnashing with canines the size of a wolf’s.

‘Let your precious soldiers take their orders from a foul monster from their children’s nightmares.’ The Witch said with gleeful malice. ‘See how many of your servants stay when they catch a glimpse of you as you truly are.’

The King’s clothes began to stretch as his body morphed further. His muscles bulged and his tendons strained like iron rods. Veins the size of creeping vines pressed against his dark-red skin as the once man, now beast, almost doubled in size into a hulking behemoth whose torso could no longer be contained by human garb, and ripped through the evening wear he had been dressed in. Abdominals like knotted loaves of bread rose and fell as his claw-like nails literally dug rivets into the stone floor beneath him and he let out a final unholy roar. His hips bucked upwards and the Witch looked with horror at the centrepiece of her creation: a monolithic cock the colour of the finest wine, and as long and thick as a regular man’s arm. His testicles hung like dense cannonballs, and the pheromones that permeated the room as his hardening rod twitched to life were enough to cloud even the Witch’s thoughts momentarily.

She shook away that mind-warping sensation and continued the spell, finalising the curse with a flick of her wrists that sent a spray of her own blood sprinkling down on the Beast like scarlet rain.

*

The King’s eyes opened with feral alertness, no longer the pale blue they had been that morning, now the yellow and black of some predatory cat. His senses were heightened, and for as unpleasant as the transformation may have been, he felt a renewed vigour such that he had never known. Those swollen, perfect muscles had strength enough to turn stone to rubble, and his trunk-like legs were powerful enough to run faster than any horse. He breathed deep through his nose and caught the scent of the Witch, no longer in the room, but not yet out of the castle. He closed his eyes and focused his hearing, and trained in on the sound of bare feet slamming quickly against the castle’s stone floor.

The Witch heard a roar that filled her retreating heart with dread. Too soon… he had recovered too soon. She hardened her resolve and pushed her legs faster than she ever had before. Her lungs burned and her feet ached, but she was propelled forward by the sound of the King’s bedchamber door being splintered, and the screams of the castle’s inhabitants as they got their first glimpse of what had become of their once-handsome ruler. She had no strength left for another incantation. Nothing left but to run… and hope. She had reached the grand staircase. The door was in sight. The Beast would not be able to follow her outside, the curse saw to that, if she could just make it to the front door. Just make it outside.

More screams behind her, but she was so close now. Surely… just a few more metres.

From the top of the staircase the red demon that the Witch had created leapt off all fours. He soared through the air with a kind of sick pleasure that betrayed how much he actually enjoyed this newfound power. He made the leap from first floor to ground floor and felt stone crack and sink where his hands and feet made contact. One more pounce and he stretched out those clawed hands and took hold of his prey.

The guards and servants who hadn’t already fled watched in horrified silence as this ungodly abomination tore the clothes from this strange woman with one swipe of his clawed hand. He pinned her down on her back and gave a feral roar of glee as his cock inflated and hardened like some weapon built to bludgeon. The Witch knew it was pointless to scream, but a moan escaped her lips as she felt the hot, clear nectar that had begun to seep from the Beast’s swollen cock-head drip and pool on her pale, flat stomach. Those pheromones from earlier wafted stronger once more, every female in the castle felt them invade their nostrils and caused an involuntary spasm in their rapidly moistening slits. The Witch’s thick, gummy nipples hardened like pink candies, and she wept at her own weakness.

‘Where were you running, whore?’ The Beast’s voice was inhuman, but not unintelligible. It purred like a jungle-cat with each word and was as deep as the rolling thunder still crashing outside the castle walls. ‘You think I wouldn’t find you out there?’

This seemed to bring the Witch a momentary reprieve from her helpless despair, and she laughed through the tears before responding.

‘This Castle is your prison, Beast.’ She said through shaky breaths. ‘You are doomed to live out the rest of your immortal life in this tomb. Alone. Unloved. Untouched. Unfulfilled. For what human would serve a devil like you?’

The Beast roared and gripped the woman’s throat, fingers easily encircling the pale cords. Rage like he had never known clouded his thinking.

'You lie!'

But the Witch merely continued to laugh.

‘How do I reverse it!?’ He demanded. ‘There’s always a way. Tell me and I’ll let you live.’

‘A life having helped you… is no life worth living.’ She spat through choked breaths, and waited for the inevitable to happen as she felt his trembling fist squeeze… and then release. ‘What are you waiting for, Beast. Do it.’

‘Well…’ The King snarled in response, lips drawing back to reveal smiling fangs. ‘If you insist.’

He lined himself up and the Witch quickly realised what was about to happen. She shrieked with every ounce of strength she had left. The head of that foul cock came to rest against her exposed cunt and she felt a weight so dense in it that it should have its own gravitational pull. His glans was the size of a pomegranate, only 2 shades darker. The winking slit at the tip of his cock's head leaked potent precum onto her crotch as the size of his would-be-invader dwarfed her miniscule opening.

‘You can’t… It won’t… Plea-guuh’

The wind was knocked out of the helpless woman as the King roared and thrust his wide, muscular hips forward, pushing his inhuman fuck-stick forward and splitting the Witch’s puffy slit wide like an overripe fig. He groaned, as his pleasure was heightened just as his arousal and strength had been. The woman’s legs kicked and spasmed weakly beneath him as her eyes rolled back and her tongue flopped uselessly. He forced himself into her, slid her body onto his gargantuan rod like a hand sliding into a glove. Her vocal chords returned and she began to moan and beg, her brain tainted with a mixture of pain and arousal such that no human had ever known.

‘Tell me how to break the curse.’ He demanded in that half human, half animal purr. He pulled his hips back and thudded into her deepest reaches once more. ‘Tell your new God what he wants to know, and you’ll be rewarded.’

The Witch wanted to resist, but felt her brain becoming as scrambled as her insides were. She was powerless to deny this creature. This perfect, evolved creature that she had created. He deserved to be worshipped. Deserved to have whatever he wanted.

The sounds of wet, inhuman fucking echoed off the walls and could be heard above the raging storm. The Witch’s lower lips were spread into a perfect ‘O’ that sucked and massaged as the Beast’s cock raped its way deeper and deeper into her inner sanctum with each thrust. His tight, heavy balls were like ripe melons, and instinctively the Witch’s hands found their way to the beast’s crotch and began to massage his churning cum-sacks. The King hissed and howled, then demanded the answers he wanted once more.

‘Muh- my blood.’ The Witch sobbed. Years of feminine evolution overtaking her rational thought as each thrust of that all-powerful dick drew her further and further into this creature’s orbit. He was all that mattered. His needs were all that mattered. He was the creator, the moon, the stars, and the sun, and she was nothing but a lowly worshipper. Who was she to deny him knowledge? ‘My blood, and the… the blood of my blood.’

‘No riddles!’ The beast roared, gripping his new cocksleeve around the waist and hoisting her up and into his lap as he sat back. She screamed anew as he began to work himself into her, jerking himself with her dripping cunt. ‘Tell me plain.’

‘You have to take the virginity of one of my daughters!’ She screamed, cumming, as ancient magic that coursed through her veins began to massage the Beast’s cock as if the walls of her pussy were alive. ‘Or one of their daughters. Or one of their daughter’s daughters. Only when your cock pierces the untouched rose of my bloodline, and the seed of your own vine grows within, will your human body be returned to you!’

The Beast’s vision was clouded with rage as he realised the full scope of his sentence. Confined to a castle, stripped of his followers and servants, and forced to hope that one day a virgin relative of this Witch came walking through his door so that he could fuck and breed her.

‘You vengeful whore!’ He roared, loud enough to cause her ears to ring and fresh tears to flow from her eyes. ‘You’ve sentenced me to a fate worse than death!’

Something about the Beast’s genuine anguish seemed to pierce the pheromone-laden fog of the Witch’s mind, and a smirk twitched upon her lips. The smirk turned to smile, and the smile turned to a laugh as she pushed her hips down onto the Beast’s cock and raked her sharp nails across the marble-like rigidity of his muscular chest. She felt him throb within her as her cunt squirmed and twisted like no normal human’s could.

The Beast’s rage was powerful, but this more primal sensation was more powerful still. He panted and snarled as an orgasm unlike any he had felt before overtook him. His hips bucked and his already turgid cock bulged and ballooned. Muscles in his shaft he didn’t even know he had strained and twitched, as finger-thick veins swelled and pumped beast-blood to his inhuman member. His balls tightened and with a final roar he exploded like a storm-cloud grown too heavy with rain. The Witch’s back arched and her inside’s burned from the demonic-seed that flooded every inch of her womb. A dark part of her mind *wanted* her daughter to experience this. To know the sensation of this devil’s perfect cock and the blessing of his hyper-potent cum, as he unloaded knot after knot after knot into her. Belly expanding, legs spasming, breasts heaving and the sight of this creature’s cat-like gaze staring into her eyes as she became his glorified cum-receptacle.

She would die that night. And she would die happy.

…But not until the Beast had his fill.

((Hello to the exactly zero people who read this far, and everyone else who just scrolled down to the bottom amazed that the verbal diarrhoea just kept flowing. Anyway, that story has a vibe. It’s hard to explain what that vibe is, but it’s definitely there. I’m looking for some transformation/magic/worship/size-play/corruption/fantasy fun… I think. Okay, I don’t exactly know what I want, but as the old saying goes, I’ll know it when I see it.

Obviously, that is a long, long, looong post. I don’t write replies that long (not often, anyway), but I do write long replies. If you want to roleplay with me, please be the type of person who *enjoys* writing replies that are 3 paragraphs, minimum. Anything less is just untenable for my style of writing, and we’re not likely to gel, I’m sorry. Nothing against it, it's just not for me. If you have examples of your writing on your profile I’m more likely to want to roleplay with you, but it’s not a requirement. Also, please no reddit chat/discord/etc.

To start, just send through a reply explaining some ideas you have for what kind of character/s you could see yourself playing in this kind of story. I’m open to changing the plot either a little or a lot. Like I said, it’s more of a *vibe* than an out and out prompt. Ideally this will be a collaborative effort.

Limits: Underage Characters, Scat, Vomit, Unpleasant Smells, Feet, Celebrities, Excessive Bondage.

Hope to hear from you soon.))