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Chapter 3
Rodmond sat alone in the small privy council chamber.
It was very early in the morning and his head throbbed considerably. He took another big gulp of water from an ivory cup. Long beams of sunlight poured into the room from either side, and he felt warmth surround him. His mind swirled with thoughts from the previous night. Flashes of scenes, moments of intense passion, and graphic sex.
Had it all been just a dream, he thought, or had he really done... all of that with his mother and sisters? He had so many questions, so many strange feelings. He wanted to run to his mother and get her to tell him everything. Tell him that it had all happened, and things were never going to be the same. Yet here he was, alone in the room his father had dedicated to matters of politics and strategy.
His mind replayed the hurried events from when he woke earlier.
Morning light had stirred him awake and Wengigia, his dutiful nurse, was there to dress him, as was customary. It was like any other day. He was the only one in his bed. The girls were gone. His nurse told him that his mother had instructed her to prepare the king for a small council meeting and to bring him to escort him there as quickly as possible.
Rodmond complied with her wishes and rose up slowly. He studied his nurse. He had never seriously gotten to know the woman, he reflected, as she worked to prepare him. She was caring and attentive, fulfilling his every need since he was a child. She even still nursed him, much to his delight, as his penchant for breast milk a well-known secret among the nurses and handmaids of the castle.
What would it be like to fuck his nurse, as he had done to his mother and sister? She was modestly proportioned, if base born, but not unattractive. She was probably in her mid to late thirties if he had to guess. She was short and stocky, with bushy brown hair that she kept wrapped up in a bun on top of her head. A loose woolen blouse did nothing to cover her rounded milk-laden breasts that swung freely in his range of vision. For easy access, Rodmond knew.
Wengigia had been pushing out kids since a young age and her big tits were constantly leaking the sweet nectar Rodmond loved so much. She seemed only too happy to oblige his fetish, often nursing him for an hour at a time. Historically this would get no response from his cock even though he enjoyed it immensely.
He wondered what would happen if she fed him now? What was she going to say when she saw how big and hard he got... after so long of only seeing his useless limp dick. Would she take him in her lap and let him nurse while she jerked him off? His mind raced with ideas.
Soon enough, she stripped him and Rodmond couldn't help noticing his nurse's surprise at his new profile. How changed he was after having taken the wizard's potion. She made an especially big fuss over the extraordinary size of his member. She had seen it hundreds of times but never like this. A fat fleshy tube hung flaccidly between his legs, and two weighty balls swung behind it. She couldn't believe such a big dick belonged to the boy she had nursed for almost eighteen years.
He would have liked very much to wedge his hard cock between her milky tits and see them spray everywhere while he fucked them. Show her how big and hard he could get now that he had all this strength and stamina to back him up.
Luckily for both of them, he remained soft for the duration of his wash and dressing. Maybe the girls had actually broken the spell last night?
Even now, sitting at the head of the rectangular wooden table in the council chamber, he felt the heavy lump in his pants. Resting against one leg. Blessedly flaccid, but still considerably bigger than it had been two days ago. Were the changes permanent or would he need to keep taking something, some potion, to maintain? Who would do that for him now that Tustin was dead?
He took another sip of water. More time passed and he emptied the cup. He squeezed the bridge of his nose. His mother flashed in his mind, bouncing on top of him. Her magnificent breasts overflowing in his hands. And his two sisters. So small beneath him. Oh Redeemer, what had he done to little Gilly last night? He could hear her in his mind, crying out. But was it in pleasure... or pain?
Suddenly the door opened and saw his aunt Morrigan, the High Priestess of the Church of the Redeemer, gracefully enter the room. He stood immediately and faced her.
'High Priestess,' Rodmond said, greeting her as she approached.
'Majesty,' she said briskly, and motioned for him to sit. Fully clothed in her holy regalia, Morrigan Velcin's demeaner gave little away. Only her face was visible, eerily like his mothers if but a little older. Her slow eyes searched the room casually. Her fat lips in a permanent pout. 'Thank you for being here so early. It is important that we hold this meeting together. It will not surprise you to know that I am the only other surviving member of your small council. I am therefore here to bring you up to speed on the present status of the kingdom.'
'The only surviving member? Is Ser Blant... not available?'
Her aged face contorted for a moment as she stopped and stood over the chair to his right. 'No, your majesty... you had Ser Blant executed this morning. I am told it was your direct order and that it be carried out at sunrise.'
'What? Executed? But I... I gave no such order,' Rodmond searched his memory.
'Well, your majesty, the order was delivered by your mother, on your behalf, mere hours ago, as I understand it.'
'Oh, I see,' he said. He nodded to her and made a note to speak to his mother about this later. 'And we have yet to replace him, or Father's senior advisors, as of yet... due to the plague, is that the way of it?'
'Indeed, Majesty,' Morrigan nodded and remained standing over the chair, her designated seat. Her compact white form towered over him.
Rodmond sighed, met her gaze, and took the measure of his aunt. So, Aunt Morrigan was the only other living member of his small council. She was his mother's only sister. And it was only by chance she had been visiting the castle on church business when the latest measures of quarantine restricted her from leaving. The High Priestess Velcin, he thought, had always been so stern and austere when he was a child. Now Rodmond looked at her in the morning light and saw the woman she really was, beneath all her holy garb, and saw a woman.
Morrigan had joined the church at a very young age, he understood. She was older than his mother by two years. That would put her around forty, he gathered, but her face gave away little, on account of her extremely conservative attire and lifestyle. Morrigan had never taken any husband or partner, she had no children, as far as he was aware, and lived a very devout life in her role as High Priestess.
As a member of the royal family she was given special privileges, even as a child, and afforded an excellent education as well as anything the royal family's wealth and influence could buy. Yet she had chosen the faith and worked her way up its ancient order to achieve the rank of High Priestess. Something no other woman had previously done at that age.
Rodmond smiled, she was a Velcin, through and through. A child of their royal inbreeding, she bore all their family's signature traits. Beneath her white wimple was the jet-black hair they all had, and he was sure it could be found else where on her body as well. Morrigan was arrestingly beautiful to look upon. She had a high forehead, high cheekbones. She had the signature green Velcin eyes, which appeared brighter now framed by the opaque white clothe around her face. Big pouty lips the women of his family all had, and a cute button nose.
