Chapter Text
“Strixis’ House of Mirrors” the sign above the tent opening said. The little attraction had appeared in the capital only a few weeks before, and had quickly become a hit. People laughed at the distorted reflections they saw of themselves, ridiculously tall or wide. Some people even whispered that if you looked hard enough, you could find the face of your true love, or how you would look while older, or you could discover the true desire of your heart. All these rumors and more drove the people of Ardesant to go in and have fun.
Queen Bellona, the shining sun of chivalry, was a little worried about it, however. The witch Strixis, her aunt removed a decent number of generations, had never forgiven the line of Queens for excluding her from the succession, and her attempts to win the crown back by charm, force, or geas had deviled the queens for ages. As much fun as this little magician’s tent of tricks might be for the people, Bellona couldn’t help but think there was something dastardly going on, something nefarious, that she would have to face head on.
So it was that the beautiful queen approached the tent, hemmed in around by fair stalls and makeshift hawkers’ places on the fairground. In front of the tent, only a young man, half-asleep and holding a bowl full of coins, sat on the ground next to the entrance.
“If you are a beggar, there are better places for you to go,” Bellona said.
The boy shot a sullen glance at the impertinent woman rousing him from slumber. “I ain’t no beggar! This here’s where the admission fee goes, lady!” he yelled, shaking the bowl. “One head, one penny!”
Bellona wondered if this was one of Strixis’ agents, but he seemed far too lazy to be a danger. She threw a coin into the bowl, and slipped into the tent.
“Wah!” she let out involuntarily at seeing a strange frog-mouthed woman in front of her. It was only after she blinked a few times that she recognized it was herself, her features stretched to hilarity. She snorted, both at the sight and at her own reaction to it.
The mirrors were really very clever – Bellona had to hand it to Strixis. The beautiful, motherly queen saw herself transformed into a stick-thin elfin figure in one mirror, then squashed down into a lump of a dwarf in the next. In another mirror, she had a head the size of a dinner platter, and in the next, her head was tiny on top of her torso. It really was amusing, and Bellona couldn’t help but chuckle at what she saw.
It didn’t help when she started making faces, too. She giggled more when sticking her tongue out, looking like some stern totem-head.
Then she looked at the next mirror, and instead of the winking face she was expecting to see, she saw her own face warped in orgasmic bliss. Bellona’s smile dropped, but the mirror didn’t change.
“W-what is this!” she said, offended and also firmly vindicated. She looked around, expecting to see Strixis, but found nothing. “Strixis, I have never made a face like this in my life!”
The reflection not only kept its lascivious mien, she began bouncing up and down, her tongue extending out and drooling, all while her eyes rolled back in her head.
Bellona gasped at the obscenity. “I haven’t… I haven’t done anything like this before, Strixis! You’re just making up falsehoods with this!” But even as she said it, she knew it wasn’t completely honest. She certainly had made orgasmic faces like this before, but only during her secret missions, when she knew that she could get away with riding monster cock without anyone finding out. As she watched the recreation in the mirror, her pussy began to drool in memory of the last time a greenskin had scraped her insides with his warty cock.
The queen huffed archly and moved away, only for the next mirror to show something even more depraved. On the Leopard Throne of distant Kachana sat a tall warlord-king, the same king who, many years before when Bellona had only just been crowned herself, had so self-assuredly proclaimed to Bellona that she would be his concubine and child-bearer before Bellona had defeated his army at the Field of Roses. Bellona could hardly have forgotten his features, his high cheekbones and tall nose carved from ebony, his lips thick and pink, so different from hers.
But that king, who had fled from the battle on his grey unicorn-steed after Bellona had bested him sword to sword, was not the one in the mirror. This king was a victor, and between his legs knelt a pale-skinned woman, whose long blonde hair was tangled and messy. Her neck wore the crown of Ardesant, now fashioned into a collar. Her belly was gravid with a pregnancy nearing its end, one that had to have quintuplets inside her. Her breasts were gigantic, and wore the bruises and scars of not only constant nursing, but more adult abuse as well. She kept one hand on her belly, and the other inside the king’s grass skirt, stroking a member which Bellona, from outside the mirror, had to guess was huge.
“Slave!” the king demanded, “Time for you to earn your dinner.” He spread his skirt, revealing his half-hard cock, at which Bellona gasped. He then slid down on the throne.
The blonde slave knew what she needed to do, and she immediately spread the king’s ass cheeks. She extended her tongue as far as she could and began licking perversely at the king’s asshole. The slave moaned and giggled into her master’s ass as she jerked his spear with her hand. His fat ballsack jumped up and down on her nose, the sweaty scrotum leaving stains on her cheeks and eyelids. Her free hand was jammed between her legs, fingering her well-used hole, showing that she didn’t just like this, the slave found it erotic .
Bellona’s mouth dropped in horror. The shame of it all! To so… submissively acquiesce! To not only pleasure the warlord in such a filthy way, but to take pleasure in her own dismal humiliation, it was perverse! Obscene! Against the nature of royalty!
Yet even though Bellona recoiled in shock at the sight, she still stared at this distorted image of herself, shorn of dignity and regal bearing, her crown turned into a mockery, her womb transformed into a nest for black-skinned bastards. She grabbed at her tabard in front of her crotch, trying not to touch herself, lest Strixis be watching.
When the king finally came from the slave’s ministrations, his cloudy seed covering her worshipful face, Bellona finally tore herself from the magical fantasia. “That’s not… that didn’t happen, Strixis! I never surrendered to that foreign monarch, no matter how much you wish it to have happened!”
The queen turned away, trying to find the exit. She would order this whole place torn down, the mirrors melted down sight unseen! She found her head turning to glance over her shoulder, and she had to force herself to look forward. She ran into one mirror, and bounced off the surface, rubbing her forehead. She blinked a few times, only seeing green in front of her.
“What the…?” she asked, before the green surface shuddered. It flew up, out of the view of the mirror, and then landed back down in the middle of a small pond. It was a giant frog, one that Bellona recognized, especially with the pale figure next to him.
A spring that Bellona had gone to had been corrupted by Strixis. The redheaded nymph had been entangled with a giant frog monster, who had turned the nature spirit into his blissful wife. The pair had tried to keep Bellona as another frog-wife, and Bellona had only managed to escape by the skin of her teeth. In this mirror, though, she saw herself if she had been just a bit slower.
Hanging from the frog’s mouth, two pale legs and a gigantically pregnant belly swung around, kicking and squirming as the woman’s pussy squirted so hard it left a rainbow in the air. The nymph giggled, kissing her “husband” on the side.
“Look at her go! Darling, we’ve done such a good job catching this one, we’re going to have
so many
tadpoles!”
The frog’s huge lips squeezed on the woman’s belly. The woman kicked even more frantically, her toes curling as her muscles spasmed in orgasm. Bellona watched in open-mouthed, pussy-drooling horror as the woman’s pussy spread open, and then with a wet squelching noise, a fat log of jelly, filled with dozens of bird-sized eggs, began to slide out. The jelly kept its shape as it was pushed out, inch by inch, the front end sagging under its own weight. Bellona squeezed her legs together to try and keep from drooling her juices on the floor as the log arced down until it reached the surface of the water. The pile of jelly and eggs grew minute by minute, each moment excruciatingly pleasurable for the captive monarch.
When the last rope came out of the reflected Bellona with a pop, the captured monarch went limp. The frog bent down and opened its mouth. The image Bellona had the frog’s tongue wrapped tightly around her neck, and her whole upper body was drenched in sticky frog saliva. What was worst, though, was that Bellona saw the mirror image’s face, completely drunk on ecstasy.
“No way… I would never…!” she mumbled to herself, squeezing her thighs and rubbing them together. Her pussy was sopping wet. “I’m not like this!”
The frog wasn’t done with the mirror-Bellona, though. Releasing her and letting her breathe freely again, it settled on top of her, and began to mate with her. Mirror-Bellona began croaking ecstatically.
Bellona couldn’t bear to watch. She tried to look away. Everything she saw made her mind swirl.
She saw herself, bound and bridled, a haughty goblin riding on top of her back through the main thoroughfare of the capital. The goblin, whom she recognized from a run-in years ago, used a riding crop to spank at Bellona’s bright-red ass cheeks and spur her to pull his cart of wares faster. But instead of bucking him off, the pony-Bellona moaned and shivered when she was spanked, leaving a trail of pussy juice on the road below her.
The next mirror showed her in some dank dungeon, devoid of light. The image’s limbs had been removed, and only one of her eyes remained. A line of scum – bandits, thieves, spies, and worse – all prepared to have their way with her, over and over and over and over again. But there was no hate on the mirror-Bellona’s face for the cruelty and evil that had been done to her. There was only a stupid, bovine love, empty of intellection, only caring for the mere physical pleasure that being raped over and over again could provide her horribly-worn-out pussy.
“No! I wouldn’t! I wouldn’t let something like that happen!” Bellona shouted. “I don’t want to lose like this! None of these would make me cum! Look, look!” Bellona began slapping at her pussy, without even realizing it, and found herself letting out primal gurgles and groans. “I’m not… I’m not like this…!” she growled, “These pictures… won’t make… me cum…!”
Bellona tried to find the exit, but the mirrors seemed to move on their own. Every way she turned there was another horrible fate, and just as assuredly there was another face of blissful defeat on her mirror-self’s face, no matter what was being done to her. Terrible tortures, humiliations without name, disgraces that shamed merely by being thought of, all of them assaulted Bellona’s eyes. Her hands attacked her own pussy harder and harder.
Panting, with drool sliding down her chin, Bellona saw herself mating with a horse in front of the palace. The fat stallioncock was demolishing her asshole, rearranging her guts to better fit his organ. As Bellona fell to her knees in front of the mirror, she saw two hooves begin to emerge from her mirror-self’s pussy. Men wrapped ropes around them, and then began to haul the foal out of mirror-Bellona’s belly. The pulled and yanked, and the stallion’s thrusting helped push its offspring out of Bellona’s womb.
Mirror-Bellona shrieked in blind lust as her foal emerged, inch by inch, first the hooves, then the snout, then the head with its ears. With a final heave, the men pulled the foal out in a wave of birthing liquid.
Bellona herself orgasmed as she watched the shaky-legged foal tremble and stagger to her mirror-self’s udder and begin to nurse. But she couldn’t stop watching. Her hands continued attacking her clitoris, fisting her hole, fingering her anus as she watched different fates she could have fallen into. She couldn’t look away.
She couldn’t stop masturbating to her own defeats, no matter how low she went. Her own defeats, her own failures, all wrapped her mind up. She wasn’t these women… but she wanted to become them, and lose and lose and cum and lose forever and ever and ever and ever...
When Strixis arrived, hours later, Bellona hadn’t moved an inch, except to better finger herself. Her eyes, half-lidded, stared at herself being used as a bitch by a pack of wolves. Her hands were buried in her holes, sweat and spit and pussy juices mixing into the puddle in the sand beneath her.
“Huh,” Strixis chuckled when she saw the mind-melted queen, “I didn’t think you’d fall apart just from seeing yourself get bred a few different ways.” She picked up the queen and flung her over her shoulder. “But I won’t say no to a fun little present! I wonder which defeat you liked best? Let’s recreate it for real, shall we? Ufufufu…”
And with that, Queen Bellona’s rule came to an end.