Prince Harry is destined to be king, although nearly no one is looking forward to it. When his future fiance and his father, the king, conspire with the Royal Sorceress, Morga, a new place is found for him at court. Harry becomes Harriet, from Crown Prince to Princess. In an effort to prove he can change, Harriet agrees to learn at the foot of the Morga how to serve others. This process is humbling, with the princess kneeling between Morga’s legs to learn to serve, and to learn to be used, even as a servant or toilet.
Can Harriet return to her old life or is she destined no longer to be king, but to be queen instead? Find out in this salacious new offering from Randall Rogue.
Author: Randall Rogue
Length: 7000 words.
“Now, as your beloved said, your father is a good man. He sees what a terrible king you will make and he understands that certain measures must be taken to prevent that.”
The prince’s eye went wide. “You can’t kill me! I have no siblings or children. If I die, the line of the kings will be broken. There would be war.”
Morga raised one eyebrow. “Kill you? No, you could still be useful, but since it would be imprudent to allow you to become king…”
She moved. Her legs devoured the distance between them, and with one long-fingered hand, she grabbed the prince by the collar of his shirt and pulled him to his feet. She was taller than him, and far stronger than any human had the right to be. He felt himself lifted from his feet, strung up by her grip on his shirt. Something hard and cold, probably the end of her rod, was shoved into his stomach and there was a flash of icy energy.
Heat flooded through the prince’s body, washing over him like a wave. He felt as his flesh began to change. His clothes became loose around him, the whole world seemed to grow. His boots, now cavernously oversized, fell from his feet to the stone floor. The cloth of his shirt no longer bound against him so tightly, and the weight of his body pulled him through it. With a sudden plop, the prince fell to the ground, his upper body bare to the world.
He looked down at himself. His arms and hands looked so thin, so fail. His once broad chest was so tiny now. What had happened to his chest hair? He’d been quite proud of that. He was sure he hadn’t been this small and meek since before becoming a man.
The changes were not complete though. As he watched, his chest began to swell, differently than before. The flesh beneath his nipples puffed out, then swelled and engorged. What had been hard muscle was growing into pillowy mounds. He touched them with his narrow fingers and felt the breasts that now hung before him.
There was strange feeling in his lower body, as though he were a pot of washing that someone had just stuck a stick into to stir. His trousers suddenly felt tight around the hips and when he looked, he saw the fabric being stretched as his pelvis widened and his ass swelled. With a final gasp, the stitches gave way and several seams busted open.
The prince pushed himself to his feet, unsteady from drink and magic. His ruined pants fell in a piled around his small feet. Feeling lost and numb, he looked down. His penis was still hanging between his thighs, now soft and smooth. As he watched, it shrank back, at first merely as if reacting to the cold, but then continued. It grew smaller and smaller until it was a mere nub, then disappeared into hair and the new folds of flesh.
The prince reached down and felt the new body, looked to Morga in a panic, then to Elena in desperation. Their looks were smug and unsympathetic. This was exactly what they wanted. The prince was no more, and in his place stood the new princess of their land.