Nicky and her fellow Ardent Hearth caretakers, Arthur and Rose, were thrown for a loop when they learned the secret behind both the manor and their own origins. Now they must brave the salacious heart of Arden Hearth’s true masters and meet their queen.
The three of them must come face to face with their own true natures and make a choice: go forward along the path they’ve begun or back to the far off land of normal.
This six thousand word story is the third volume of Ardent Hearth Manor by Randall Rogue.
Author: Randall Rogue
Length: 600 words.
Sure enough, by the time she was full of french toast, a couple of robed figures had taken up station on the raised platform. Just in front of the stage, a mismatched group of figures were setting up instruments: a goat legged satyr with an upright bass, a short figure in a red cap with a small drum set, and a elf with a sax.
When the band began to play a slow tempo jazz, the figures dropped their robes and struck a pose, naked bodies exposed to the crowd. Nicky found herself leaning forward in her chair, elbows on the table, watching the display. The pair were identical, as alike as any twins she’d ever seen. Tall, slender women, with cascades of emerald green hair falling down to their curving hips.
They began to dance, movements as graceful as a leaf on the breeze. At first they moved in sync, mirroring one another, but as the dance developed, small variations began to creep their way in. The changes happened so slowly, so gradually that Nicky only noticed them long after they had begun. As the dancer’s movements varied, so did their appearances.
At first, the emerald hair of one drifted into the brilliant gold of a summer field. The other’s pale skin darkened as if a tan developed in seconds. The blonde dancer moved to the center of the stage, her partner moving behind, and lowered to her knees before the crowd, her hips undulating sensuously as she moved to the slow tempo of the music.
Nicky had felt like she was no stranger to these sorts of transformations after weeks of experimentation, but every time she or the others had done it, it had been a rapid transition. There had been a sort of shimmering in the air, and when it cleared, the change had happened. These dancers were entirely different. There was no visual occlusion, the transformations were gradual, slow; they were the point of this show.
The kneeling dancer’s bare genitals began to change. Before their eyes, her clit grew and swelled. At first, it seemed within the bounds of normal anatomy, but soon it was swinging with a weight of its own, becoming a small cock. The dancer continued her gyrations, sending her cock in little dancing motions of it own as it grew longer and thicker. The foreskin pulled back from the head as she grew harder and harder until her cock curved slightly upward.