Winter's Fury - Volume Two of The Saga of the Twelves (84 page)

Her brow creased. She saw
the great bulge at the front of him, bobbing and bouncing as he
strode forth. She frowned in disgust, knowing his intentions in an
instant.

Vallüm had often worn the
same look upon his face, more times than she cared to
remember.

Whatever this little
cherub looked like, she knew him for what he was. Yet another
rapist. And from the size of his engorged prick, he was no doubt a
master at it.

You will NOT have me
little boy!

She spun on her heel to
face this new threat. She focused all her attention upon the
angelic child with violation and murder in his black as coal eyes.
She waited. She balanced upon the balls of her feet. Her legs were
wider than the width of her shoulders. Her hands were at her sides,
palms forward, her biting and barbed nails unsheathed to the
fullest.

“
I will have you now!”
howled the boy in a musical, singsong voice that was as much of a
lie as was the rest of him. He leaped for her just as the ridge of
his nose burst open and the tiny filaments within spewed forth a
wide swath of a mist, tinged with pink.

To Inghëldir,
smelled…

…
Wonderful!

Wait!
she thought in the next instant.

That was all the time the
evil cherub needed, no more than a moments’ hesitation.

As she pondered the smell
emanating from his nose, he slammed into her with more force than
he should have been capable of producing. He was too
small.

Inghëldir felt herself
fall backward.

The deranged boy was
already ravaging the remnants of her dress even as they flew
through the air. In less than a second, he opened her nakedness to
the cold air about the cave. She looked down just as they hit the
stony ground. Small rocks and pebbles tore into her back and
shoulders. She saw his massive manhood come forth from beneath his
robes. It was ready, fierce, rigid and drooling from the
tip.

“
You
are
mine
, Nixy,”
he said from deep in his throat. His tones were hoarse with lust
and ardor. His words he framed around rapacious intent. It was an
aim that should not have come from something looking as young and
innocent as the demented cherub.

Before she could react, he
pinned her down faster than she could move. Her arms were stuck at
her sides. She could not comprehend how he accomplished this. The
boy was pulling his robe over his head. His arms were not around
her. What was holding her in place? She knew his small body was not
heavy enough to immobilize her all by itself. She glanced around,
frantic now, trying to assess her plight.

Then she saw the little
boy was much more than he had first appeared.

To her horror, the middle
part of the boy’s body had erupted in row after row of strange
looking, flesh-covered limbs. She felt her eyes widen as her mind
tried to comprehend what she was seeing.

Somehow, his ribs had
become malleable and had bent back upon themselves. It was these
fantastical limbs that held her fast to the floor. These horrid
ribs were cocooning her arms at her sides. She resisted as much as
she could, but she could not dislodge the awful limbs from her
body.

Above her, the cherub had
shed his only clothing. He was nude and upon her.

No!
she thought, crazed by the thought of another fucking against
her will.

I am Inghëldir!

I am no one’s
plaything!

I am
Inghëldir!!!

She peered up at
him.

Once more, the twitching
tendrils inside of his nose shot forth and a cloud of fragrant pink
mist blossomed.

On instinct alone, the
Nixy withdrew to the newly constructed center part of herself,
where she was safe. She willed herself not to fight back. She made
herself lay motionless, even as his thick phallus pulsated against
her thigh. There, it dripping and left a trail of thick spooge
behind. She pulled all herself within, evading the distracting
cloud coming from the boy, ignoring all. Even as her legs were
roughly shoved open, exposing her womanhood, she stayed unmoving.
Even as she felt the evil cherub’s hips draw back in the beginnings
of his initial thrust, she remained still. Breathing steady, she
let the physical draw within as her mind reached… and reached…
and
reached!

She touched everything
then.

Time seemed to
slow.

Like before, the cave, the
land, the air, the storm, everything was hers to know. She splashed
into a pool of tranquility and bathed in it. Within this well of
wonderment she saw light; soft, perpetual light surrounded her. The
last dregs of what she had once been fell away.

She was no longer a
Nixy.

She was no longer a
creature forged by a Prēost.

She was no longer a being
of Storm.

The changed was complete.
Her transformation reached culmination.

Herself, damn
it!

She was
Inghëldir!

“
You are more than that,
Puta, but the choice is yours to make…”

What? Who?
she begin to ask when, but was immediately
distracted.

From the comforting cell
in her mind, she felt the tip of the boy’s penis touch her skin.
She was only half aware of the throbbing head as it began to push
aside the folds of her labia’s. He would enter her vagina with the
tiniest hump forward.

She did not take
notice.

In a flash, her body broke
and snapped. Bones shattered, skin bent, muscle tore, sinew
sundered and cartilage ripped.

*****

Above her, the boy froze
aware something was happening to the creature he was about to
infuse with his voracious sperm. At a loss for a moment, he did not
know what to do.

He looked down into
Inghëldir’s eyes. His breath caught in his throat. His entire body
went stiff with shock.

The blue eyes that had
stared up at him moments before were gone! Larger, fiercer orbs of
the sharpest, purest white he had ever seen replaced them. Her
irises swirled in an endless current of blood.

Beneath him was no
Nixy.

This was dread made
real.

*****

It was all she needed - a
moment of indecision on his part, even at the moment of his
ultimate conquest. It was a fraction of a second, but it was
enough.

She struck.

I AM INGHĖLDIR!!!
she raged.

Long blade-like bones
ripped forth along the outer edges of her arms. She felt them
emerge and in an instant knew what she must do.

She swung outward, cutting
through the boy’s flexible ribs as though they were butter. She
bucked the lower part of her body at the same time. She sent the
cherub up and over her head.

He screamed at the top of
his lungs in agony as he flew over her. He hit the ground above her
head, blood and gore falling from him and splashing about the
cave.

The
Nixy-that-was-not-a-Nixy flipped onto her stomach. Then she jumped
to her feet before the cherub had stopped moving.

She came for
him.

He twisted and writhed
upon the ground, heedless of her approach.

She smiled through long,
pointy teeth, towering over him, six and a half feet tall. She
grabbed the remnants of her dress and ripped it away, standing
above him stark naked and in all her glory. She was fright and
beauty interwoven, something so terrible it was difficult to look
away.

Her head was no longer fig
shaped. It suited a creature of her height and build. It rounded
now behind the ears, ending in a sculpted, pointed chin, giving the
impression of beauty, but danger as well. Her neck had enlarged,
thickened, to accommodate the larger skull it now supported. She
was even taller than she had been only minutes before. Her hands
and feet were even bigger. They ended with long, thin fingers and
toes with barbed, razor-sharp nails upon each. Her hair was no
longer pale blond. It had whitened in some places and darkened in
others, but it was not just white and various shades of gray. Red
streaked through it as well, matching the colors swirling within
her eyes exactly. She was crimson within white, surrounded by the
pale, white-grey of her skin. She had matured into womanhood. Her
breasts were full and high upon her chest, her hips wide supporting
long, lean thighs and would sway when she walked. Downy, pink hair
grew under her arms and at the triangle of her pubis, but nowhere
else. She had stretched and angled, becoming sharp as she
lengthened. She was cold mixed with heat, voluptuous, but somehow
looked new. She had been reborn in full. No longer was she a
Nixy.

She was something called
Inghëldir now.

“
Look at me, boy,” she
demanded through gritted teeth, her fury contained by a fraction of
an inch.

Through a web of
unexpected pain, he peered up at her, his eyes hooded, spittle
dripping from the corner of his mouth. He wheezed through the
agony. His manhood thickened anew as if it had a will of its
own.

She sneered at it. She
knew she was desirable. She could feel it on the inside. “You will
never have this,” she said, gesturing down the length of her long,
lean body. “I am Inghëldir. I alone decide. No one has dominion
over me. Do you hear me, boy?”

He shook his head without
realizing he had done so.

She waited, gazing down at
him with disdain, stretching the silence, making sure she had his
upmost attention.

She crouched; her long
spindle-like limbs seemed to fold as she bent down, her eyes never
leaving those of the cherub. A slight smile etched one side of her
face.

His eyes widened as she
cupped his scrotum with one her hands, her long nails had now
developed sharper edges along the sides. He looked up at her rank
with fear, cringing and twitching with little control.

“
It is I that will have
dominion over you, my little sweet,” she purred. She cut her
quivering tongue across her razor sharp teeth. She let the blood
fall to the floor, distracting the boy for a split
second.

In a flash, she twisted
and sliced his over-large testicles clean from his body. The razors
that were her nails had more than up for the task.

He wailed and flopped upon
the ground and appeared to diminish before her as if some unseen
life force had drained from him.

She did not waste the
opportunity. With all the power of her completely remade mind, she
delved into his. She bashed through all the mental barriers and
walls and constructs built to protect him from psionic control. She
seized him, every last shred of his psyche and bound it to her
will.

He had no chance against
her and did not have the stregnth to resist, even if could. He
scrambled to his knees, his lap full with blood and supplicated
himself before her. His forehead he placed upon the rocky floor of
the cave.

For a long while, he
wept.

She came to her full
height, glancing about until her eyes came to rest upon the carcass
of her dead friend. She let the Pixy’s ruined gonads fall to the
floor with a sickening
slop!

“
Now,
tend to your wounds,
Enricht
.” She emphasized his name,
telling him not so subtly that she now knew everything there was to
know about him.

Because of his weakened
state, she sent him a tendril of her newfound power through their
mental connection. She explained how he was to heal himself or as
much as he was capable in his lessen condition.

He was hopeful at
first.

But she told him in
silence he was gelded. He would never more have the ability to
impregnate another living being. He wilted, but followed her
instructions. He healed himself, though thick, banded scars marred
all his body. His useless manhood shrunk to that of a miserable
potato-like lump between his legs.

Enricht, you are my
precious Geldling from now on
, she told
him in his mind, watching as his shoulders slumped in defeat. She
gazed at him for a time, letting the reality of his newfound
existence sink in.

Then:
Now, since you are responsible for the death of my Jätung,
you will help me skin my beloved Isighünd. He will know that I will
forever honor him by wearing his hide. No more will I wear anything
but him.

You took from me, my only
true friend…

He nodded,
brisk.

Together they made their
way to the hulking corpse and got about the gristly task she had
put before them.

*****

Two hours later, she
stepped into her new garb and was a dismaying sight to behold. What
had once been Jätung’s skull and upper jaw now fit onto her head.
His vicious fangs covered all her face, shielding her blood red
eyes. It was a fearsome helm still attached to the skin that had
once been the hide of his neck, back and sides. Now, it served as a
thick robe, covering her tall, thin form. About her person, she and
Enricht had fashioned a form-fitting tunic. It belted at the waist,
draped over her body, stopping at the middle of her thighs. Her
pale knees and calves were bare. Her full-formed figure was
discernible underneath. Her curves were beyond concealment for
evermore.