Purple night enveloped the sleeping kingdom, lending its violet radiance to the gleaming of the moon, like a pearl hung upon a bed of stretched black silk set with the sparkling diamonds that were the countless stars. The scent of hyacinth wafted on the warm night breeze, sticky with the sweetness which came with the late spring bloom. Salatha sighed and turned from the broad open arch of their bedroom, leaving the narrow balcony to return to the gloomy chamber. Her bare feet padded across the floor of black marble, veined with pink and white, reflecting the golden gleam of her fur, the sleekness of her strong, slender legs which carried the fullness of a wide hip as one succulent thigh did escape the folds of her azure robe. The lioness glided soundlessly across the chamber, pausing only to glance at the immense bed which dominated the room. So much like him, she would think to herself with a sneer curling her lip. 

“He always did have to be the biggest in the room,” she said to herself. Her lips, black as midnight, glimmered wetly in the wobbling glow of the gold oil lamp. Its orange tongue licked upwards like that of a serpent as the lioness came to stand before the silver plated mirror. Her face reflected the angular beauty of a creature born of the hunt. Her mouth, wide, imperious, yet filled with the sensual pleasures of lips ripe and soft, smiled, revealing the straight, white fangs. Her eyes, like that of topaz, narrowed as she took up the small pearl with thumb and forefinger. “With this, husband, soon you shall.”

Below the mirror was a wide vanity, there placed by the steward was a bottle of her husband’s favorite wine. Two glasses shimmered in the low light, empty now, but as Salatha tilted back the dark glass of the bottle, were to become filled with the sludgy, dark crimson of the bitter brew. Into the glass, she let fall the pearl she had clasped. The tiny sphere bubbled upon striking the liquid, fizzing up into a frothing boil, carrying the evil stench of something noxious. Salatha crinkled her snout in a manner which her mother would have called terribly unladylike and waved her slender hand before her face. What did her mother know, anyway, the lioness would remark. She who had spent most of her queenly life in bearing the brats which would grow to become her arrogant brothers. 

“Bah,” spat Salatha. “I shall not make her mistake.”

She leaned both palms on the vanity, letting her swishing robe fall around her slim shoulders, slipping now down her arms to reveal the strength of her corded throat, the roundness of her shoulders. A pair of strong, hard hands soon fell upon her wide hips, clasping her tight. Salatha gave a start as she felt the breath on her neck, hot and wet, heavy with the expectation of what was to come. His lips claimed her mouth, his tongue seeking to find entry between her fangs, to roll along her red gums and to explore the honeyed chalice that was her mouth. Salatha’s ears swiveled back, her nostrils flaring as she puffed her ragged breaths against golden fur. Her arms lashed out, finding the swell of hard muscle, the firmness of the shoulder which cradled her to a chest which was both broad and powerful. The heat bloomed in her cheeks, blossoming cherry red as she felt the first stirrings of desire growing hot within her belly. She turned, falling into the arms of Adrio, her husband and king, wrapping both arms around his neck. Her slender fingers, tipped with claws translucent and dusted with a faint polish of gold so that they were as delicately ornate as stained glass, quickly became entwined in the lion’s thick main of dark hair. 

Hopelessly lost within that jungle of tangled fur, Salatha plunged onward, her mouth parting, opening herself to her husband’s questing tongue. The lusty brute did not hesitate, for none would claim that the warrior-king of the Seven Kingdoms was one to sit and wait. With the forceful rapture of his primal lust, the king slid his pink tongue between her lips, slithering over the rough expanse of Salatha’s tongue before curling back to caress the roof of her mouth. Adrio’s tongue slid effortlessly across the ridged palate, rubbing against the back of her fangs so that the lioness, his queen and love, would moan faintly through her nose, her yellow eyes closed as she leaned into him. He closed his burly arms around her, the smoothness of her silken robe delighting his bare fur, the swell of her breasts, their nipples just beginning to bud like ripe fruits, stirred the desire within him. His manhood rose, a scepter fit for any king. Proudly, that pillar of manly virtue did grow, swelling into throbbing glory. Pink flesh, slick with the sheen of pungent sweat of the great beast, glistened like that of a jewel, glimmering in the lamplight, reflecting the orange glow. 

The spongy tip thrust itself into her belly, making Salatha utter a small gasp. The queen’s eyes fluttered open, her mouth tearing from her drooling maw of the male lion. She pushed against that broad chest, letting her fingers graze the rippling of his hard stomach, tracing the lower belly, so flat and firm, tufted with the dark scruff of Adrio’s pubic fur. His cock quivered, its spongy tip like that of a serpent, swaying before her. A glimmering gem of precum beaded upon the gaping urethra, making clear the desires of her king. Two heavy plums, fat with fresh seed, hung together in the furry scrotum between a pair of legs which could have been carved from marble. He was radiant, glorious. An Adonis of fur and flesh, such a male which made the queen’s belly boil with the lusty heat of her need. Her hand came to her breast, casually falling, sliding down the loose fold of her robe to slither between her legs. 

“Not yet,” she whispered. “Not yet.”

“But it is,” boomed the baritone roar of Adrio. “I have come, my love. For tonight we, as husband and wife, shall perform our kingly and queenly duties.”

“Our duties, love?” replied Salatha. “Pray, tell me what those are.”

The white fangs of the king gleamed brilliantly in the scant light of the oil lamp. His fur backlit by the waning moon, he said, “We must see to it that the kingdom has an air, my love. A son to carry on the name of his father.” He gingerly placed a hand beneath her chin. “Are you ready, my queen.” 

Her eyes turned from the king, seeing the expanse of the wide bed with its glistening sheets of elegant, green silk, threaded with cloth of gold. The pillows were stuffed to bursting with the finest down, the weave alone was painstakingly produced by the best of artisans. Such was to be the bed in which their heir, all heirs, were to be sired. Salatha’s nostrils widened to gaze upon that terrible matrimonial arena, her clawed hands prickling with the sweat which came on the eve of a battle. 

“Husband,” she would say. Salatha turned back to the king, her lips pressed together in a thin, black line. “Um, before you wish to vent your manly desires.” She ran her fingers along his quivering belly, tracing a claw up the curve of his rigid member. “Would you not like some wine? To set this momentous mood, of course?”

Upon seeing the familiar bottle resting on the vanity, Adrio’s ears pricked up. “My favorite vintage,” he boomed. “Excellent! My dear wife,” he said, picking up the bottle. “You do know how to treat me.”

Salatha was at his side, her hand upon his arm, her delicate jaw laying on his shoulder. “Oh yes, my love, I know exactly how to treat you.” She took up both glasses, handing Adrio the glass in which she had placed the pearl. “Here, my love.” She held up her glass, saying, “May our union be a most fruitful one.”

“May it bear much fruit,” rumbled the lusty king and with a tremendous gulp, downed the entire glass in one swallow. 

Salatha placed her glass to her lips, sipping the bittersweet elixir, her eyes glittering resplendently as she wrapped an arm around her waist and waited. Adrio wiped his lips with the back of his hand, smiled, then let out a terrific belch. 

“I, [i]urp[/i], must have a word with the vintner,” said the king. His stomach roiled, gurgling noiselly so that he placed a hand on his belly. “I do believe that this vintage is not quite up to his usual quality.”

“Oh?” said Salatha. “The wine tastes fine to me, love.” Her lips curled. “Perhaps something was put into your glass?”

The empty glass fell from his nerveless fingers to shatter upon the floor in a thousand scintillating shards. Pain racked the king, driving him to his knees. Adrio clasped his heaving belly, his fur suddenly damp with sweat which poured from his shaggy brow. With one hand to brace him from the cold marble floor, he retched, heaving up nothing more than strings of yellowish saliva as agony twisted his stomach into knots. 

“W-What have you done?” croaked Adrio.” He turned his gaze up at the imperious form of the queen, who now towered above her husband with eyes which blazed like fire, illuminated by the lamp. 

“Relax, my love,” she said. She placed her glass on the vanity and with one slender hand, scooped his chin up so that he looked her fully in the eyes. “I did not poison you, though after tonight, you may wish I had.” She smiled, a grin as cold as the silver moonlight. “A gift of good Octavio, it was.”

“The treacherous magician,” panted the king through clenched fangs. “I should have known. That mummer should have been cast to the dungeons in my father’s time.”

“But, he was not,” replied the queen. “Now, enough talk, my love.” She stood fully, her legs parted before her kneeling husband. 

The scent of her body, the rich musky odor of her sex, mingled with sweat and the faint aroma of jasmine wafted gently from the folds of her robe. Despite his pains, the king could not resist such a scent, his cock wept, flowing with the bitter, shimmering tears of his love which splattered upon the floor. His balls churned, pumping with a need to release, filling him with a desire to breed and to be bred. His ears swiveled, heat blooming in his cheeks that such desires should fill his mind. His belly was growing still now, the pain subsiding, leaving a tingling sensation below his navel. His hand came to caress his lower belly, finding the flesh now softening, growing somewhat rounded, as if widening to make room for something. 

“Behold,” said the queen and her slim finger shot for Adrio’s lower belly. “I see the wizard has done good work.” 

Adrio gasped, seeing the glowing, pink rune which was now etched upon his abdomen. Carved in the crude semblance of a heart, the pulsating sigil was flanked by what appeared to be a pair of simple wings, curling up and back like two ear lobes. Such a peculiar symbol, but so familiar to the lion. Where had he seen it before?

“What is the meaning of this?” he growled, but the overpowering scent of his queen would just as quickly drive the protests from him. 

He fell on his hands, finding himself inching ever closer to the sleek, spread thighs of his love. Salatha smiled, reaching for the sash which bound her robe. 

“Behold, love,” she said. The azure silk parted, sliding from her golden form like water to pool around her ankles. Her body was like that of a goddess made flesh. The sculpted shoulders descended down her muscled arms to a pair of hands at once delicate and strong. Her breasts hung like a pair of ripened apricots, succulent and full, pert, rising from her chest. Crowned by a pair of nipples of sweet pink, like the wild cherry blossoms, her chest heaved as the queen drew in a breath, letting it billow hot from her lips as her belly, flat and well muscled, grew taut. Her wide, round hips made the court poets weep with such joy, composing entire sonnets to her beauty. “I too, have a gift from the wizard. Do you like it?”

Horror and primal lust vied within the trembling breast of the king, for between the sleek, smooth legs of his queen, there rose a pillar of throbbing manhood, a cock which rivaled his own impressive rod. Her shaft was pink, becoming nearly crimson with the flow of her hot blood. Veins pulsed up that smooth shaft like a webbing of ivy, reaching for the spongy tip which wept the first glimmering droplets of her shimmering precum. Below her newfound cock, a pair of fat orbs churned. As big as pomegranates, those virile globes cried out to the king, demanding his utter supplication to their swollen might. 

“W-What is the meaning of this?” Adrio stammered. 

“My love,” said Salatha. The queen took a step closer, her tip almost brushing Adrio’s lips. “I am merely aiding you in fulfilling that which you desire.” 

Adrio’s broad shoulders shook with the hot, angry tears which rolled down his cheeks. Despite the horror before him, he could not avert his eyes from that pink glans which thrust up from the furry pelvis of his queen. He closed his eyes, his lips questing for that spongy head, every desire within him to place his eager lips upon her cock, to wrap his mouth around Salatha’s member. 

The queen placed a hand upon the shaggy mane. Gently, almost lovingly, she stroked that dark fur. “We should have taken this to the bed, love, but you are already in the perfect position. It would be imprudent to wait.”

Her tip came to nudge the lips of Adrio, the king meeting that velvet head with a kiss which made the queen gasp audibly. 

“Oh my,” she sighed. “Oh, Adrio.”

His mouth opened, tears streaming down his cheeks. Adrio extended his tongue, lapping the sweat from her plump undershaft. He leaned forward, his tongue sliding down her cock until he found her fat scrotum. Then, the king would rise, his kisses peppering her rod, coming up to mount the swell of her tip. He wept, hating what he had become, yet unable to resist the bitter tang of her leaking tip, the taste of her flowing precum which pooled in his hot belly. Salatha’s hands were on his cheeks, cupping his damp face as Adrio’s lips met once more the spongy tip. His mouth parted, wrapping around the queen’s new member. 

“There now,” whispered Salatha to her sobbing mate. “You cannot fight it, my love. Let it take you.” She gave a shuddering cry as Adrio plunged down her shaft. “A-Ah, yes. Yes, feel it. Your belly grows soft, your new womb commands you to accept my seed.” She ran her slender fingers through his mane. “You wished for an heir? Now, you shall have the kingly honor of bearing it yourself.”

Adrio whimpered, unseemly for the once proud king. He plummeted down her shaft, his nose tickling into the tangled weave of her pubic fur. The scent of musk pervaded his nostrils, making his head swim, intoxicated on the heady aroma. He pulled back, closing his lips around her throbbing member, milking her shaft. His tongue slithered around her pole, curling around her tip to lap the sticky dew of her bitter precum. He fell once more, sliding down her slick cock, his hands now reaching for the backs of her thighs. Hard fingers curled around her legs and Salatha shivered, bracing herself on her husband as the lion’s claws crept higher and higher up her thighs. He found the round globes of her buttocks, the firmness of her rump stirring his lust anew. He had marveled at the shape of her ass, now he craved her body like never before. Bound by the cunning of the wizard Octavio, the king was a slave to his own aching lust. He grasped those round cheeks, fingers sinking into the yielding flesh so that Salatha did cry out in giddy thrill of her husband’s feverish strength. Fingers dipped into the dark, wet ravine, parting her ass, revealing the tight, dark circle of her anus. 

“Mmm, whatever shall you do, husband?” asked the queen. 

Salatha swayed above him, almost drunk on the obscene pleasure her husband was bestowing upon her. Her cock wept, spurting its first thick strings of virile seed. 

“O-Oh, you must not tarry, my love,” she moaned. “Oh, I’m so very close now.”

The rune on his belly throbbed, his stomach growing hot. His womb screamed for obedience, compelling the king to close his lips around the queen’s member, to suckle the bitter essence of her semen. The first strands flowed down his throat, mixing in his belly. His body stirred, awakening. His fingers found Salatha’s ring, pressing against her button so that he pierced the queen’s flower, plummeting down to her trembling core. Her swollen prostate quivered at his touch, yet the lusty brute would not be stopped. He caressed that trembling gland, coaxing the screeching cries of the wailing queen into a symphony of swinish grunts, becoming a song of craven desire which brought Salatha to sing her love to the sleeping heavens. 

“A-Ah, oh yes,” she sang. Her cock was throbbing, her dangling balls ready to pump their virile load. She clung to her husband’s shaggy mane, feeling the roughness of his flat tongue upon her manhood. “Mmm, exquisite,” she moaned. “Oh, yes. Husband, I must release. I have to… I-I…

Adrio held onto the clenching, muscular buttocks, his claws digging into her flesh. With the feverish might of the desperate, he clung to the quivering Salatha, lest he find himself cast adrift on such a sea of blissful agony. His tongue slid along the underside of her weeping cock, tasting the bitter tang of her sweat, the sweetness of her hot, throbbing flesh pulsating in his mouth, leaping up to caress his palate with the spongy tip which soon would disgorge its thick, potent elixir. His belly quaked, his womb growing excited, demanding that he submit. Tears streaked his golden face, running in thin lines to dribble upon the black marble, lost in the low light of the guttering oil lamp. He pulled back, his wife’s groans spurring him to bob his sweating head faster, harder. His lips closed around Salatha’s manhood, his tongue slithering around her shaft. His fingers played around the gaping ring that was her anus, slipping freely between her cheeks to stroke the swollen, trembling prostate so that his wife did howl. 

“A-Ah, yes,” Salatha cried. “I-I…”

Hot, bubbling seed gushed forth as if bursting a ripe fruit. The thick sludge filled Adrio’s mouth, his cheeks bulging as the potent seed poured down his throat. He gulped with relish, his body craving the bitter semen of his queen. His throat bobbed, swelling as he swallowed back the stringy wad, letting it pool warm and rich in his expanding belly. His stomach lurched, so full with the seed of Salatha, that Adrio suddenly retched, burping up strings of ropy semen to cling to his fangs. 

“My love,” said Salatha. “You cannot tell me that you are already finished.”

The malicious lioness laughed, watching as her husband slid from her pole, leaving loose strands of her own seed to cling to her still erect cock. Sticky semen matted the scruff of her pubic hair, dripping in shimmering opalescent droplets to splatter onto the floor between her shapely legs. Adrio fell back back, gasping for breath. Salatha’s seed stained his lips, trickling from the corner of his mouth to mix with the glimmer of spittle which he wiped with the back of his hand. His clawed fingers fell to his belly where the runic sigil pulsed pink with a life of its own. His stomach, soft now, rounded in a way that was frighteningly feminine to the brutish lion, gurgled beneath his touch. Within him, Adrio felt the stirrings of a new desire and his cheeks did blush. His own cock throbbed, eager to pierce the fair Salatha, but such was to be his denial, for the queen had much more in store. 

Adrio rolled with a groan, whimpering softly as he crawled to the edge of their great bed. The green sheets shimmered as he took up a fistful, dragging his weary frame onto the plush mattress. 

Seeing her husband climbing into bed, his firm ass tilted before her, Salatha exclaimed, “Oh, husband! Are you ready then?”

His arms trembling, Adrio dared to turn his head back. He was on all fours, his knees sinking deep into the mattress while behind him, his ass parted. The coolness of the night air found its way to the fragrant bloom, tickling his revealed anus so that the king did shiver. Wetness spread between his cheeks, his flower blossoming with the pungent desire to be bred. The scent of musk hung heavy in the still air, masking the aroma of the hyacinths which bloomed just beyond their balcony. Adrio’s nostrils flared, taking in the spicy aroma which he had known since he had grown into manhood. It was the smell of a female in heat. Only, the scent was wafting from his exposed rump. His great head slumped to the mattress, sobbing in defeat as Salatha did mount the bed, her cock poised to slip between his cheeks. 

“Now, husband,” she whispered. Her slim hands fell upon his muscular back, gliding down the curve of his spine to cup the hard, sculpted ass. “Is that any way for a king to behave?”

“I curse you,” hissed the king. 

Yet for all his protests, he could not resist the newfound might of his queen. Salatha ignored the whimpering of her husband, her thumbs dipping between the firm cheeks to spread his ass wide. His button gaped, wet and ready, eager for the press of her ripe mouth. She licked her lips, letting them shimmer wetly, cast in the orange gleam of the lamp. The moonlight reflected from the marble floor, its silver light illuminating the grim tableau. Her mouth fell, meeting the king’s anus with a poisonous kiss. Adrio howled, gripping the sheets as if they alone would save him. Alas, that they would not, for soon the squirming tongue of the wicked queen would slither through his ring, plunging deep. She crashed the gates of his new womb, curling back to caress the trembling prostate. Adrio’s cock wept in frustrated elation, spurting its shimmering precum into the sheets to spread in a dark stain below the weeping king. 

“Such a mess.” Salatha’s tongue slipped from Adrio’s rump, the queen smacking her lips with a chuckle. “Really now, I expected so much better from you.”

Her hands found his thighs, fingers tracing the iron bands of muscle which rose like enraged serpents below his flesh. Her cock throbbed with excitement, her lust overwhelming. Swollen balls churned with fresh seed, not yet satisfied despite the tender ministrations of Adrio. No, they could find no succor until they had planted their seed deep. From her tip came the bead of glistening dew, eager to vent its fury. She took hold of Adrio’s hips, lowering the lion to the bed. Adrio laid his belly onto the sheets, his precum seeping into his fur as his cock spurt once more. His balls rested between his spread thighs like two pearls, which Salatha did not fail to take in thumb and forefinger. She worked each orb, gently squeezing, running her thumb along each ripe globe. Her other hand, she slid between the spread cheeks, two fingers plunging into Adrio’s anus. Forward, back, running along his smooth rectum, stirring the lion into a frenzy of racking sobs. 

“Mmm, you are ready,” she said. Salatha pulled her hand free, her fingers glistening with the pungent nectar of her husband’s love. “I smell it, it's so sweet.” She placed her fingers to her mouth, licking the fragrant dew from each claw. Her cheeks began to grow hot, her belly roiling in anticipation. “Yes, it is time.”

Adrio yearned to flee, but his own desires compelled him to remain. Under the spell of the devilish Octavio, he had become a slave to the unnatural lusts which made his womb tremble. His thighs opened to the queen, his rump splitting wide, giving her his slackened bloom. Salatha rose up on her knees, her tip pressing into the tight bud which had grown open by her caress. Adrio’s fragrant honey flowed, making his tunnel slick so that Salatha bucked her hips, plunging deep to strike the whimpering king’s very core. Adrio gave a cry, grasping at the bed as his wife pulled back. Salatha circled, plunging forth once more, stirring the king into a howling boil. HIs belly swelled, filling with her throbbing meat which struck his quivering gland so that precum erupted from his tip to spray his heaving belly. Salatha clutched Adrio’s hips, pulling back, tilting her hips now as she swiveled and came in again with a slamming strike to press the weeping lion into the mattress. 

The bedframe shook beneath them, rocked by the tumult of the battle which was waged upon that shimmering, verdant field. Salatha’s fingers crept up the hills of Adrio’s rump, cupping his buttocks so that she would swirl her palms around such ripe and firm flesh. Her husband groaned, lifting his rump. Pleasure stirred within him, driving all other thoughts from his brain. Adrio moaned in blissful ecstasy, drawn deep down into that dark well of jubilation. His belly churned, undulating slowly as the king rocked back against his queen. 

“That’s it, my love,” the queen sighed. “Mmm, yes, give yourself to me.”

Adrio pressed his ass into her pelvis, her pubic bone grinding between his cheeks. Sweat trickled from her golden brow, pattering onto the curving back of Adrio. Salatha was beginning to pant, her body clenching tight with the exertion to drive her manhood into the yielding flesh of her husband. She fell atop his back, her arms wrapping around his waist. Adrio lifted himself from the bed, Salatha’s hands finding his lower belly, tracing the lines of the glowing rune which was etched upon his stomach. 

“I wish to give you so much more,” the queen whispered.

She met the back of his ear with a kiss, making his flesh tingle. Adrio could only moan, his mind given fully to the pleasures which rolled and danced in his belly. His chest ached, his nipples becoming hard and erect, rising like the stems of ripe cherries to be plucked. Salatha’s nimble hands scaled his broad chest, finding such a bud. She plucked that erect nub, twisting and pinching, eruptions of bright pain bursting electric in his brain. Salatha held him tight, her fangs bared as she fought to hold back that which was inevitable. Her cock quivered, spurting the hot trail of precum to splatter Adrio’s weeping prostate. The king roared, overcome by the pumping rod of his wife which buried itself deep into his very core. Salatha thrust, not pulling back. She pushed deeper, never slowing, she circled his prostate, her tip leaking its shimmering sludge. Her balls were screaming, demanding the release which had for so long been denied. 

“A-Ah, it’s time, husband,” she said. 

“S-Salatha, you mustn’t,” the king replied. “You couldn’t.”

“But I simply must, my love.” She offered a single kiss to his tear-stained cheek. 

With a final cry, she let herself go. Hot seed gushed forth to flood the king’s womb. His belly clenched with the sudden heat, quaking as his hungry womb did lap the pouring semen with greedy relish. Salatha’s hips pushed, pumping another ropy strand, making his belly begin to distend. Adrio marveled with horror as his stomach became bloated, sagging round and full with the churning seed of his queen. His womb lurched, overfilled and yet still hungering. His ass spurted a thick stream of Salatha’s gushing semen, strings running down the inside of his thighs, sticking to the fur of the queen’s scrotum as she pulled back. Her member softened as it fell from Adrio’s bruised flower with a wet pop. A strand of white seed still clung between them, forever binding husband and wife. The king collapsed to the bed, gasping for breath, his hand on a belly now round and full. Semen oozed between his cheeks, running down his leg as he rolled over onto his back. 

The rune which adorned his lower belly blazed with unearthly light, bringing with it a soothing warmth. Adrio placed his hands on his tight belly, feeling the swell of his distended middle. Dark pubic fur bristled from his navel to his groin, this his questing hands did follow, tracing the bulge of his stomach. Salatha bent her flushed muzzle to place her lips on his stomach. The queen’s eyes went wide and a new horror found itself worming into Adrio’s mind. He placed his hands to his belly, feeling frantically. It could not be, he thought. But it was. For his fingers felt the stirring within him. The pattering of tiny feet which kicked out at his rapidly ballooning flesh. 

His belly was rising, swelling before his eyes. First appearing six months pregnant, now growing, expanding into one full term with twins. His hips ached, the bones audibly cracking, his pelvis expanding, growing wider to accommodate his fast growing brood. 

“No,” he cried. “No, this cannot be.”

“Oh, but it is,” remarked the queen. She placed a hand on his swelling belly, feeling the stirrings of her children. “The wizard does such wondrous work. I should thank him for this.” She ran her hand down the slope of Adrio’s gravid stomach, her fingers tangling into his dark pubic fur. “Mmm, such a beauty you are, husband.” 

Adrio whimpered, his nipples suddenly aching, tingling with a strange new sensation. Beads of white formed on each pink bud, the first droplets of fresh milk which began to flow from newly bloating breasts. 

“Oh my,” said Salatha. “Why, I did not know of this.” 

She fell to his leaking chest, her tongue licking the sweet dew from his fur. 

“Exquisite,” she would purr. “Mmm, how delightful.”

She wrapped her lips around Adrio’s left breast, her tongue circling the bumpy areola. The slurping of her black lips echoed in the still chamber, accompanied only by the tortured sobs of the pregnant king. His gravid belly was the size of triplets, swelling above him. His navel had become a hump, a tight mound to crown the golden sphere which rippled and swayed with the fluttering of the unborn within him. His cheeks burned, his body damp with sweat and the flow of milk which would not cease as Salatha tore her lips from his weeping tit. She sought his mouth, her tongue, white and dripping, extending from her fanged maw as if in offering. Despite his horror, he could not refuse Salatha’s gift. His lips wrapped around her tongue, tasting of his own milk as he drew her to his mouth. The queen flung her arms around his neck, kissing him deep, running her tongue along his to make the gravid king rumble with delight. 

Salatha plucked her lips from his, tracing the strong jaw to plunge down his neck. She would find his collarbone, her kisses eager to fill that empty oasis, as her hands did find his breast and cup the jiggling flesh which only grew more round and bloated in her palm. Overflowing with her love, she followed the path of that pouring chalice between the heaving mounds to now mount the rise of Adrio’s pregnant belly. Never had she imagined the raw thrill which raced up her spine as she crested the hill of his distended navel. 

“My husband,” she spoke in a breathless whisper. Her cock was stirring, growing hard and fat, her balls churning anew. “I never… I never knew how much I craved you like this.” 

Crimson glowed from her cheeks, her yellow eyes glimmering in the dull gleam of the lamp, like chips of unpolished topaz. Her claws trembled, coming to spread their strong, slender fingers across the ballooning expanse of her husband’s swollen belly. Salatha bit her lower lip, tasting the tang of copper from her fangs piercing her own flesh as she shook in ecstatic glee. She fell to Adrio’s lower belly, her tongue leaping to caress his shuddering abdomen. She slid down the slope of his stomach, gliding along the pink scar of the glowing sigil which blazed from his belly. The mark which had blessed their union with the unholy brood now pummeling his kidneys. Down, she fell, to find the scruff of his pubic fur. There, nestled within that tangled jungle, rose the king’s scepter. Adrio’s cock throbbed, forlorn and forgotten, pleading for release which would never come. 

“Poor husband,” said Salatha. She ran a finger along the veins of his erect shaft. The king let out a thin mewl, his cock seeping shimmering precum. “Do you desire release, my love?”

Adrio wept, his belly shaking. “Y-Yes, please.” His whimpers upset the unborn within him, causing them to lash out in protest so that his belly appeared to be boiling. 

“Mmm, but I do not wish to,” said the queen. “You will just have to wait longer.” 
Instead, she slid between his legs, hooking her arms under his thighs and lifting him up so that his knees were now to his shoulders. Her flat belly fell atop Adrio’s bloated middle. 

“Seeing you like this,” she panted. “So full, so round. I must, my love. I cannot deny it.” She bucked her hips, her tip pressing against his battered petals. “You would not wish to deny your queen, would you?”

“Damn you, Salatha-a… Aaahh….”

Adrio fell back upon the bed, unable to resist the power of the magic which stirred his bloated womb. He craved that virile rod which blessed his womb with the potent seed of his queen. The king clutched a pillow to his leaking chest, weeping softly into the smooth silk as his budding anus was stretched again by the cruel, wonderful manhood of his queen. Salatha bucked her hips, her pubic bone slamming into his ass. The wet slap of their sweaty bodies filled the chamber, making a harmony of grunting sobs and strained moans which sang with the pumping rhythm of the lioness. Her cock slammed deep, meeting Adrio’s shuddering prostate. Now pulling back she circled her hips, lifting his pelvis from the bed. The king was reduced to a mewling gelatin in her hands. Adrio rolled onto his side, his swollen belly extending across the mattress rolling with the panting breaths of the lion as Salatha draped one powerful leg over her shoulder. 

She wrapped an arm around her husband’s thigh and pushed, plunging deep, crashing the gates of a womb overstuffed with the patterings of new life. She yearned to bless him anew, to give yet more of her seed to him. She pulled back, circling, never stopping, never slowing. Driven as much by the magic of the wizard, as by her husband’s cravings of the throbbing might of her cock and the virile seed which made gravid his womb, Salatha pumped, pushing hard, now pulling back, but never could she stop. Sweat made damp her golden face, her head drooping as her breast heaved with the exertion. 

“Adrio,” she sighed his name. “I simply cannot go on.”

Her balls churned, pulsing orbs ready to burst. The first spurting of her semen flowed from her tip, tickling her cock with the pangs of release. 

“A-Ah, I must,” she cried. 

“Ungh,” Adrio could only groan as her seed erupted. 

Hot semen flowed into his overfilled belly, making his stomach swell with fresh expansion. Salatha placed her hands upon his belly, feeling the flesh growing tight, swelling to the size of quadruplets. The greed of the queen was insatiable. She licked her lips, watching with fascination while her husband whimpered, his belly growing before her eyes. How many would now grow within him, she wondered? Her softening cock, she plucked from the bruised flower of her king. Adrio lay motionless, his belly wobbling, still swelling with the new life which was rapidly pressing at his flesh. Salatha clambered from the bed, fetching her robe and slipping it onto her shoulders before she was startled by a pained wail. High-pitched, like the shrieks of the restless dead, the shrill cries were coming from Adrio. She whirled eyes wide to find her husband’s back arching painfully, his thighs parted wide in agony. From the cleft of his buttocks there gushed a pungent fluid. 

She rushed to the bed, placing a hand on his trembling belly. Adrio’s fur was soaked in sweat and the flowing milk which did not stop. He was gasping, puffing rapidly. His belly lurched. TIny claws raked at his womb, demanding, seeking the opening with which to scramble into the world. Pain and dizziness were a storm within his brain, making the lion swoon. His hips creaked, commanding him to push. 

“D-Damn you to hell,” the lion tried to snarl through pain racked fangs. “I will make you pay for this, Salatha.”

“Oh now, husband,” the queen laughed. She patted his round belly and smiled. “You’re just saying that because you’re in labor. Relax, it will all be over soon.” She kissed his stomach and then turned to glide towards the door of their bedroom. 

“W-Where are you going?” sobbed Adrio. 

Her hand on the jamb, Salatha stopped and turned back to her husband who was now gripped in the agonizing grasp of childbirth. 

“I, my dear, have a kingdom to rule. You, on the other hand, should focus on bearing our first heirs.”

“F-First?” stammered the king. 

“Yes, husband,” said the queen. “I find that I quite enjoy seeing you like this. I shall return when you are through to give you another brood. Would you like that?”

The king’s mewling cries were drowned out by the imperious laugh of Salatha, her lilting chuckle following her into the hall. The queen stepped forth into the brightly lit corridor, her feet padding softly on tiles of blue and gold. From her elbow came the jingle of armor and she turned to see a guard standing before her. His hand was on the ornate hilt of a short sword which was sheathed at his hip. 

“My queen,” he said with a bow. “I heard such terrible cries. I rushed to the royal chambers as quickly as I could.” 

“Fear not,” said the queen. “That is merely my husband performing his kingly duties.”

Another cry echoed from their bedroom. 

“Yes,” smiled Salatha. “He should not be long now. In the meantime, guardsman, do call the nurse. Have her bring some clean linens and hot water for the newborns.”

“Newborns?” The guard gave a puzzled expression. 

“Do you question your queen?” Salatha snapped. “Now go.”

The jingle of armor followed the retreating guard, leaving Salatha to stand alone in the empty hall. 

“Yes,” she said to herself. “I do believe that I will quite enjoy being queen.”