Free Story of the Week Watching Over Me

Shapeshifter


By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM
Artwork (c) 2003 by Dean Cameron

Illustration of Shapeshifter

Dillem was watching the street carefully and urgently. Where was Shamif anyway? He'd promised to be here, he'd promised, and with the goods.

There he was! Walking between a man riding a war-dragon and a troupe of sword-bearing elves escorting a golden cask of magical staves, no wonder Dillem hadn't seen him until now, when he ducked around and behind the troupe and came over to the small table outside of the inn where Dillem had been waiting for him. "Have you got it?" Dillem said in lieu of a hello. There was little time left.

"Yes, I have it." Shamif agreed, producing the small vial from the folds of his robe. "The Shapeshifting Elixir."

"So how do I use it?" Dillem was watching the street again, for Thern was due by any minute, that was why he'd picked this particular meeting place.

"Just have your chosen target in sight before you drink it. Drink it while looking at him the entire time and it'll act immediately upon ingestion of the final drop."

"Fine, fine!" Dillem snatched the vial from Shamif's grasp for Thern was coming around the corner.

"But you haven't heard the rest. Once you drink the vial...."

Dillem was beyond listening, Thern was right in front of him and Dillem quickly undid the stopper and gulped the contents, carefully keeping his eyes right on Thern's face the entire while. As the last of the vial gushed into his mouth, as the final drop clung to the lip and was licked off by his tongue, there was a sudden rushing feeling.

Dillem blinked and found himself holding the basket of food that Thern had been carrying. He looked down at it and saw he was dressed in the simple brown woolen garments of Thern instead of his own blue cotton and black velvet clothing. He felt his neck and the submitter's collar was there, a small and largely symbolic ring of iron about his neck. Thern's submitter collar. And he was looking over at...himself! Who was looking down at himself in disbelief and wonder.

"It worked!" He called out and even his voice was Thern's.

"Yes, it did." Shamif agreed. "And I hope you are content in your new body, because...."

But Dillem was dashing off toward Selvina's home. He was going to finally bed the beautiful and delightful Selvina!

He had adored the lovely Selvina for several months, ever since he'd seen her at the lord's party last spring. He'd tried for her, but she'd rebuffed him adamantly. He would have despaired entirely (some women are proof against even the most magnificent men's blandishments), had he not seen her later on, talking animatedly with Thern and laughing, and how Thern's hands had touched her and how she had smiled at his touch. So she was enamored of her own lord's submitter, was she? Well, if he could not have her in his own form, he would have her in Thern's.

Thern had submitted to the lord some two years ago, he'd learned by asking friends. A man who needed money could make his pledge to another. If he could not pay by the agreed-upon date the agreed-upon amount, the man could make his debt good by becoming the property, the "submitter," of the creditor. He would work for the creditor, doing whatever was required. Such a fate was not always awful, but the man could always make his debt good by working in the hours each day alloted to be his own by the law, and saving up the money that way. As the creditor had to give the submitter a place to sleep, food to eat, and all other necessities of life, this was not impossible.

Thern had been thus enslaved for two years and showed no evidence of saving money to escape. But if he was bedding Selvina, that would explain why he didn't wish to escape.

Thern quickly moved on down the street, and who would not, when he was going to the home of such a beautiful woman who was no doubt awaiting him eagerly?

Selvina was in her personal quarters and Thern walked in as if he belonged there. She looked up briefly (she was wearing only her undergarments), shocked, then relaxed when she saw it was Thern. "Oh, it's just you." she said.

"Yes, it is me." Dillem agreed, seeing himself in the mirror. Thern was an admittedly nice-looking man, he saw, with the black hair, dark eyes, well-chiseled features. A bit on the effeminate side, perhaps, more so than his own brown-haired, hazel-eyed, rugged good looks. But if this was what Selvina wanted, he'd give it to her, to get what she had!

"I'm glad you're here, can you help me, dear?" Selvina asked him.

"Of course." Dillem moved closer.

"I need to get this dress on and the fasteners in back are the most stubborn I've ever borne. I don't think they meant it to be done up by the wearer. Won't you be my dresser for a moment, please?"

"I'd be delighted." Dillem held the dress out and open so she could step daintily into the middle of it and then pulled it up over her.

"How do you think this color looks on me?" Selvina asked.

"It is perfect for you. But then, anything would be."

"Oh, you!" Selvina smiled and turned around, held her hair up. "Do me up, please. I must still attend to my makeup."

"Anything you would do to that lovely face of yours would only distract from your beauty." Dillem said gallantly.

"Why, Thern, what would my husband say if he heard you talking like this?" Selvina declared.

"I'd say he'd agree with me if he isn't blind."

"I wish he'd talk like you do, at least!" Selvina mock-mourned, covering her face with her arm.

"There is more I can do that you would like him to do." Dillem said bravely and reached his lips down to kiss her neck as he'd always dreamed.

"Oh!" Selvina gasped when his lips touched her and she drew away. "Thern, you forget yourself!"

"I forget nothing, for my every thought is of you!" Dillem declared desperately, he was so worked up, he had to touch her, had to have more of her, he'd never been this close to her body, he'd tasted one brief kiss of her flesh, he needed more, more!

"Get out of here! Now!" she screamed at him. Bewildered, Dillem left. Retiring to his room in disgrace, he was a turmoil of emotions. Wrong, wrong! The Lady Selvina was not enamored of her lord's submitter! She had toyed with his emotions but when he'd attempted to act upon them, she had scorned him as a stranger! How had he misjudged her affections so poorly, he'd seen them together.

The Lord and Lady left for a party and, while Thern had expected to be allowed to go with them, he was told by a servant that his services that night would not be required. As he got ready for his bed, he mused that he had made a major mistake here, now he must find a way to get word to Shamif so he could trade for his body back again.

A frantic knock at his door. "Yes?" He called out.

"The Lord has returned from the party early and is calling for you! Hurry, I think he is drunk!" the servant told him.

Oh, Goddess! Dillem got up and got dressed quickly. He was already in purgatory here by having offended the Lady, he must not offend the Lord as well. A creditor's ownership over a submitter was absolute, for he had become property in resolution of his debt, he must do as he was told until he restored his body or he could be slain as easily as one smashes a flawed dish into shards.

The Lord was in his bedchamber, a large, beautifully appointed four-poster with heavy velvet curtains. They could be drawn and give the sleeper darkness at any hour, but as this was night, they were pulled back with heavy golden cords. "There you are, Thern!" he declared as he saw Dillem.

"I am here, my Lord." Dillem agreed.

"The Lady has chosen to spend the night at the Morenthayers." the Lord informed him. "We have the entire night alone, therefore."

"As you say, my Lord." Dillem felt only relief at this. With the Lady not present, he could simply bide his time until he could leave and find Shamif.

"So what are you waiting for?" the Lord asked him.

"My Lord?"

"Undress and get in bed already!" The Lord threw back the covers.

The Lord wanted him to sleep with him? Dillem blinked, but didn't dare disobey. The Lord had been drinking but wasn't drunk, he would be able to thrust a knife into Dillem's throat anytime he wished and his aim would be true. And if Dillem fought back, his life would be forfeit by the rule of law. Such killings of submitters were actually very rare...but they did happen.

He stopped at his undergarment, but when he tried to climb into the bed, the Lord said, "No, Thern, all of it. I am bare as well, you can see." And he pulled the covers up so that Dillem could see his bare, too-hairy body.

Dillem gulped and stripped his undergarment off, the length of cloth was untucked and fell down, a mere rag. The Lord was staring unabashedly at Dillem's penis, and Dillem looked down and discovered that Thern had a longer, thicker dong than himself! Maybe there was a way to work the curative potion so that he could keep this part of Thern's body? His cock, due to Dillem's lascivious thoughts, rose and stiffened.

"Magnificent as always." the Lord said. "Now bring it into this bed for me!"

Dillem knew then why Thern had become a submitter and remained one when he could have worked diligently and won his freedom. He must needs enter the bed and sexually pleasure this other man, this hairy brutish man. A fair penance for his diabolical plot to seduce the Lady, to be the sexual partner of the Lord instead! No other choice, though, he must obey.

So he crawled into the bed and the Lord scooted over so that with Dillem still on his knees, the Lord's face was being thrust at his crotch, and he felt his extended and engorged dong being stuffed into the section between mustache and beard, both prickling his skin, but the space between, the space with his cock, that was submerged into moist warm enchantment! The Lord suckled at Dillem's prod with an ardor that would have astounded his fellow Lords no doubt. And the militia he commanded in times of war would love to learn of this. Perhaps he could work out a way to get at the Lady after all here, in his own form, with a bit of blackmail.

The thought of that combined with the lustful attentions of the Lord to make his encounter thus far quite enjoyable, he was groaning with true and actual desire, and he threw his head back and moaned. He was quite close to climax.

But the Lord spotted this and said, "Now your turn to do me." He said and pushed the covers down to his knees. His cock was an obscene sausage lying in a thick brush of wiry black hair, it glowed with a sheen of sweat and he could smell the raunchy aroma of it all the way over here where he was. When had the Lord last bathed, anyhow? He smelled worse than a horse!

The Lord's hand came over and caught Dillem's head and pushed it toward that foul nest. "Come on, I hunger for your talented lips!" he groaned.

Dillem closed his eyes, shuddered, opened his mouth and took it inside himself. He knew what women had done to him on more than one occasion and did his best to comply, but the Lord's grunts were not of lust but of frustration.

"No, no, do it like you did the last time!" the Lord groaned. "You are as awkward as a virginal bride, like my Lady was on our wedding night!"

Dillem lifted his head and said, "I am doing my best, my Lord."

"You are not." the Lord declared. "Well, you have slicked it up at least, it will have to do."

The Lord rose up and began to position himself and Dillem and with the Lord over him and his legs in the Lord's hands being raised up, he realized what the Lord intended.

"Oh, oh, my Lord!" he gasped out when he understood. "I cannot take you this night, I cannot!"

"What nonsense is this?" the Lord declared. "I have taken you three and four times in a week for the last two years and this night you deny me for the first time? The very same night you paid too much attentions to my Lady? I think not!" He pushed his glans between Dillem's buttocks. "Now hold yourself ready, for I am taking you now whether you will or not!"

"My Lord, have pity, have mercy!" Dillem gasped. And then the Lord thrust into Dillem and the heavy dong was like a battering ram that breached his gates in the first sorty.

Dillem yelled out in pain as the prong shoved itself in deep and the pain surged through him. Thern's body was used to this organ, though, and though Dillem resisted this invasion, he nonetheless was able to accommodate the huge pud without more than a little bleeding, brought on by his own mental blockage.

But the Lord was deaf to Dillem's entreaties, he was claiming his very right by taking his submitter as he wished, and so he continued to ram his prick in and out of hapless Dillem's aching butt. Dillem moaned and slumped into apathy and as he did, his last resistance to the Lord's love-tool ended, and with that, his body's natural adaptation took full sway. Not only did the pain diminish to nothingness, but the prostate was able to assert its own opinions at being rubbed by the hefty tool, that is to say, Dillem went from agony to an undeniable pleasure at being butt-fucked.

Astonished, he looked up into the Lord's lust-driven face grinning down at him and the pleasure that washed through Dillem's body let him smile timidly in return.

"That's my nice little submitter." the Lord grunted in satisfaction. "You argued with me this night, but once I got it in you, you remembered who your master was, didn't you?" When Dillem didn't speak, he repeated, louder, "Didn't you?"

"Yes, my Lord!" Dillem gasped out.

"Tell me you love me doing this to you." the Lord commanded.

"I love it when you do this!" Dillem declared, and found to his surprise that he meant it. Being a man's love-slave wasn't a fate worse than death after all, not when your body had adjusted to being deep-donged. It felt...it felt better than sex with a woman! "You're better than any woman!" he added of his own.

"As if you'd ever had a woman!" the Lord chided him. "I know your history well, my little love-kitten. You've taken men's tools your entire life, and those days were your training for this, and I am never going to let you go, my submitter. You are mine forever!"

"Yours forever!" Dillem cried out. "Take me faster, my Lord, faster, I need you now, I need you!"

"Rrrr-aghhhh!" the Lord growled and he began to thrust-fuck at Dillem's ass, and Dillem cried out, clung to the hairy back, his fingers digging into the thick fur, and his orgasm struck him, he cried out again and ejaculated heavily onto the Lord's furry stomach and as he did, the Lord groaned, stuffed his cock down to the base and blasted a hot load deep into Dillem's bowels.

"Ah, ah, ah, ahhh, ahhhh!" the Lord gasped as he fell heavily onto Dillem's body, crushing him into the bedding. Dillem patted the Lord's back feebly and to his dismay found the Lord snoring a moment later, fast asleep while still imbedded in Dillem's ass. He tried to shift the Lord off of him, but the dimple of the feather bed and the weight combined defeated that, he was pinned until the Lord chose to get off of him, and in that heavy, hot wedge between lord and bedding, Dillem found slumber reaching him just the same.

The next afternoon was the submitter's lawful time off to do as he would, three whole hours belonging to him and he raced to Shamif's quarters to beg his enchanter friend to undo this magick.

Shamif was home and Dillem saw that there was a form in his bed, covered up and apparently hiding from him. He didn't care. "Shamif! You have to get me another bottle of the shapeshifter elixir!" he begged. "And how do I make it restore me to my own body?"

"That was what I tried to tell you yesterday." Shamif told him sympathetically. "You cannot take the curative, it must be the other person. And Thern has left the city soon as he realized what had been done to him. I think he has gone to your estates in the south and will there take over your own life."

Dimmel moaned when he heard this. "And I cannot leave the city until this submitter's collar is cut from me when my debt is repaid. How much did Thern take from the Lord anyway?"

"I am told it was twenty thousand pieces of gold." Shamif told him.

"I cannot earn that for the rest of my life! But I suppose Thern knew that, didn't he?" Dimmel realized that he was trapped here. No wonder Thern hadn't tried to earn his freedom, he knew he couldn't! And with that huge dong loving him all the time, he didn't want to be free! "Shamif, what am I going to do?"

"I'll ask my fellow magicians if they have an answer." Shamif said. "Go back to the Lord's house and be a good submitter. I'll contact you when I learn the answer."

Dimmel sagged and slunk away. Shamif turned back to his bedmate. "Now where were we, my love?"

The covers went back and the familiar face glowed at him. "We were planning to go to my estates in the south. You can help me with my imposture until I learn all of it."

"That sounds marvelous, my dearest Thern."

"Tut-tut-tut!" came the answer.

"Sorry." Shamif said, "my dearest Dimmel."

"That's better. Now come back to bed. I'm ready to go again." The large, rugged, handsome nobleman's body lounged back enticingly.

"So am I." Shamif smiled, and turned his back on the outside world.

THE END
.
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