My mind worked quickly, physics expertise kicking in like second nature—I know exactly how to make a proper pen. No more quill torture—a reservoir, metal nib, ink flow via capillary action and gravity.
Simple steel reservoir pen, doable with imperial forges. "Merol, summon the royal smiths and alchemists. We're making the 'imperial quill-slayer'—hollow steel tube, slit nib, internal ink chamber. Prototype by dawn."
I sketched a quick diagram on scrap parchment, complete with pressure diagrams from memory.
"Are you sure, Your Majesty?"
"Yes, this idea just came into my mind!"
Merol's eyes widened in shock, jaw slack before he bowed sharply. "At once, Your Majesty!" He bolted out, barking orders to attendants, the study door slamming behind him.
The tabby stayed glued in my arms, a warm purring loaf as I scratched under her chin—rough tongue licking my wrist in thanks, emerald eyes half-lidded in bliss.
Night had fallen, stars winking through the window; I walked to the roaring fireplace, its golden flames crackling shadows across the room.
Gently, I set her down on the plush sofa—she stretched luxuriously, paws flexing those jellybean pads, before padding after me with a questioning meow, tail high as a question mark.
But when I scooped her up again, she wriggled free, circling twice on the velvet cushions before curling into a perfect orange-striped donut, tail tip over nose, purrs fading to soft snores.
I slipped into my private bedroom—vast chamber of silk drapes and moonlit tapestries—shedding the heavy crimson robes with a relieved sigh.
Maids had laid out silk nightclothes—a loose, sapphire-blue tunic that draped my lithe frame like liquid starlight, pants whispering against my smooth legs. I unpinned my chignon, shaking out waves of golden long hair that cascaded to my waist, shimmering in the candlelight—tousled, fragrant with jasmine oil.
Barefoot, I climbed onto the enormous bed, sheets cool satin whispering against my skin. I laid there, staring up at the embroidered canopy—golden threads depicting dragons coiling through stars—body sinking into feather pillows that cradled my lithe frame like a cloud.
Suddenly, a hot coil twisted deep in my stomach, arousal flaring unbidden, cock twitching hard against the silk pants.
What the—? Caspian's body betraying me already?
Need clawed at me, raw and insistent; my hands moved on autopilot, yanking open the sapphire pants to free my pink length—already half-hard, flushed and leaking a fat bead of precum that oozed down the shaft onto my flat stomach.
I sucked two fingers deep into my mouth first, coating them thick with hot saliva—tongue swirling lewdly around them, mimicking Darius's massive girth stretching my jaw, the phantom salty musk making me whimper like a slut.
Should I put a finger inside me?
Heart pounding, I trailed the dripping fingers down my oiled skin, circling my tight virgin pucker—no pussy, just this greedy boyhole begging—before shoving one slick digit inside.
The ring of muscle clamped down hot and vise-like around the intrusion, velvet walls rippling and sucking me deeper, so much tighter than my old body's sloppy wet folds.
I moaned loudly, back arching off the satin, free hand fisting the sheets as I pumped roughly—saliva's cool slickness turning into a sloppy squelch against the burning heat within, prostate sparking electric jolts with every brutal curl.
This feels so fucking different from fingering as a female—narrower, deeper, my cock throbbing untouched, drooling sticky strings now.
A second finger rammed in beside it, scissoring wide to stretch the fluttering grip, gasps turning to obscene breathy cries echoing off marble walls—"Ahh, fuck, yes!"—as I finger-fucked myself harder, knuckles-deep, hole winking greedily around the invasion.
Darius's fat cock would wreck this—split me open, breed me raw. Pleasure built molten-fast, balls drawing tight and aching, until I cummed—cock pulsing untouched, ropes of thick cum splattering my chest in hot, messy arcs, hole spasming wildly around my fingers in wet, rhythmic squeezes, milking them like a desperate cunt.
Panting, sticky cum pooling in the hollows of my collarbone, I didn't stop—greedier now. I scooped a glob of my own load with trembling fingers, smearing it back over my twitching cockhead before plunging three digits into my sloppy, cum-slick hole.
The lewd schlick-schlick filled the room as I pounded deeper, prostate throbbing swollen under the assault, cock hardening again instantly—precum bubbling fresh from the slit.
Dirtier this time—my ass eating my fingers like a hungry whore, walls clenching so tight it hurts so good.
I twisted viciously, grazing that spot relentlessly, other hand jerking my slick shaft in furious pumps, thumb bullying the sensitive underside.
Moans turned guttural, hips bucking up to fuck my hand—"Nngh, someone, fill me!"—until the second orgasm ripped through harder, cum erupting in forceful jets across belly and neck, hole gushing around my knuckles in obscene spasms, leaving me a wrecked, sweat-drenched mess.
Panting, sticky cum pooling in the hollows of my collarbone, I didn't stop—greedier now, body craving more.
My hands roamed up, twisting my own nipples hard between thumb and forefinger—pebbled peaks aching under the pinch, sending fresh sparks straight to my leaking cock.
Still twitching from orgasm, I rolled off the bed, lower half slick and dripping—cum and saliva trickling down my thighs—and yanked open the bedside table drawer, pulling out a forgotten stack of parchment scrolls, crisp and new from Merol's deliveries.
With a flicker of Caspian's magic—subtle illusion and hardening spells—I shaped them fast—two thick, rigid dildos forming from the rolled papers, enchanted firm as heated steel yet smooth as oiled silk, veined ridges pulsing faintly with mana for extra girth.
One girthy phallus, huge like Darius's monster, flared head glistening with conjured lube; the other slimmer for my throat, curved to hit deep.
Back on the bed, ass propped high on knees, I rammed the fat one straight into my sloppy, cum-slick hole—schlurp—walls stretching obscenely around the invasion, prostate crushed under the girth as I sank down balls-deep in one go.
"Fuuuck!" I howled, golden hair whipping as I bounced, cheeks clapping against my own thighs. The second plunged into my drooling mouth, muffling cries into wet glurks—tongue lashing the enchanted veins, throat bulging visibly as I skull-fucked myself in rhythm.
Spit bubbled from my lips, dripping down chin to mix with chest cum; ass gaped lewdly around the paper-cock, squelching with every brutal thrust, magic warming it to body-temp for that realistic throb.
I twisted my nipples raw, hips grinding circles—Darius in both ends, breeding me stupid—until orgasm three hit like lightning, cock erupting untouched again, splattering sheets while my hole clenched vise-tight and throat spasmed, milking phantom loads.
A wrecked, sweat-soaked heap, dildos still buried deep, I gasped. Am I getting a bit deranged in this new life?