FSE

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In the prologue, our ten adventurers discovered a strange vial inscribed in an ancient language.

In Part I, Connor the barbarian sampled it, finding its effects made him an even more bullish fighter than before.

In Part II, Stefan the fighter drinks from the vial in desperation; he regains perhaps a little too much vitality, and a change of focus onto a bigger picture.

In Part III, Elwin the mage discovered a new source for the contents of the vial, and decided that he was very into hanging around what he considered the new, improved Connor.

In Part IV, Robin the cleric tried to bring order to the chaos that followed from when Elwin was abducted, only to add further chaos when he exploded into a great tentacled being.

In Part V, Sir Paul the paladin and Brent his squire fall for the lust they have for each other, their bodies corrupting themselves and each other until they part ways as an owlbear and a fox.

In Part VI, Marcus the thief discovers that he is turning into a displacer beast; with no way of fixing it, he decides to go with the flow and tries to enjoy it as much as possible.

Which leads us to...

Part VII - Unbelievable!

Giorgio cursed and held his freshly-cut finger to his lips. The coppery taste of his blood sprang to his tongue, flavoured with the saltiness of the sweat running down his face. Both tastes masked the tinge of creamy fluid that had sprayed over him. His reflexes had not been fast enough, even though he had recoiled. A single, clear image from his memory of that event flashed over him. "Unbelievable!" He spat on the ground.

Shifting away from the tree that had not liked him shifting its branches, Giorgio went back to humming, the taste of copper and salt disappearing from his mind. He'd lost his lute, but any music helped to pass the time, and he had a lot to pass before he found the next village. Besides, if this misadventure didn't produce a song or two, then he should probably just let the tentacled thing have his - its? - way with him.

Humming changed to full-voiced singing, expelling nervous energy out in a melodious burst. "No critics about?" Giorgio asked the trees and the small animals that were no doubt twitching and scampering around him. If there were critics, none were of the rock-throwing kind, so felt fine making use of his full voice.

As he sang, Giorgio wondered if any of the others would hear him. There weren't all that many left. Marcus or Ashfist appealed the most: although he could take care of himself, they seemed the most useful of his companions to make escaping the forest easier. The paladin was too serious, his squire too squirrelly, but they would be better than nothing.

His thoughts turned to Vernon, and Giorgio frowned. There was something about that man that had bothered him immensely. Giorgio occasionally used his eyes and ears for more than reading a crowd, and had gone on enough adventures to know the type of high-born oafs that went along on these foolish escapades. Vernon was completely wrong: he was certainly no ignorant bore who was just interested in hunting and playing hero. He'd struck Giorgio more as the type to pay, and keep his own skin safely tucked away behind the city walls. There was more going on here than Giorgio knew, and that always left him feeling uncomfortable. He decided that yes, he was rather glad that the two of them had parted company.

Giorgio's cut finger itched. He wasn't surprised; a glance told him it was one of those maddeningly irritating cuts that hurt far more than their size suggested. The worst, he guessed, would be if it became infected with something. He looked around, continuing to sing: the local plants weren't familiar, and he wasn't about to start experimenting.

Pondering what opening lyrics would make this adventure seem more appealing, Giorgio's song was interrupted with a coughing fit. His insides were unsettled: one moment, heat blazed through his whole body, while the next he would shiver with a chill, as though fire and ice swirled in a battle inside him. Like the finger, it was certainly uncomfortable, but he didn't want to rest just yet; he would feel a lot happier once he returned to the wide roads, small villages and magnificent cities that blossomed with a thousand stories.

Giorgio's leather armour creaked at with his next steps. This wasn't surprising - he only wore it while travelling away from the road, and it was cheap and ill-fitting - but now it seemed worse. "This adventure has turned me into a hulking brute!" he laughed, interrupted with coughing up a hot splash of something strongly acidic from his stomach. It was the only reason he could see: the physical rigour must have been putting some muscle on his bones. He blew kisses into the air, imaginary crowds shouting mute glories at him. "Yes, it is I! Giorgio, fighter of monsters!" He laughed again, more hot fluid rising from his guts.

The burning was getting alarming, and Giorgio returned to humming to spare his voice. While he walked, he tried to adjust the leathers into a more comfortable arrangement. This seemed futile, as it seemed to bark at him with more fervent insistence. His travels had furnished him with a variety of colourful curses in many languages, and he made full use of all of them as he pulled and jerked at his leather armour.

After a final, forceful yank, accompanied with a burning surge through his arms, Giorgio's armour finally seemed to slip into a more comfortable position, punctuated with a crack. Another step taught him the truth, his fingers exploring a large tear that ran down one side of the armour. They continued to explore the armour's wound, travelling along the frayed, ragged strip of torn undershirt that clung to his sweaty side.

Giorgio's fingers told him that something was off there as well. His body felt hard and lumpy under his fingers. A foggy memory passed through his head, but the simile escaped him. He glanced down, noting that the patch of skin had darkened with a purplish bruise that was spreading. His fingers didn't look much better. He had never heard of fingers being bruised before, but his seemed to be, with a pale ring of dead skin peeling away from his fingertips.

"Unbelievable!" Giorgio explained.

He needed to see how far this had spread; Giorgio's mind latched on to the idea that this was some kind of rash or disease. He hastily removed his armour, his mind frantic as it wished to get back to civilised land. Healers were a lot easier to find in even a small village than out here.

The unremembered simile slithered through his mind again, passing by but leaving a stronger impression. Giorgio slowly realised that this was no rash or disease, at least not of the regular sort. This was a transformation - his transformation - like those that had affected his fellow travellers.

"Unbelievable!" he repeated.

Struggling free from the rest of his clothes - all of it would have to go for a true catalogue of his experiences - his eyes bounced over various parts of his body. The strange bruised, rough skin that he had first noticed on his side had consumed a lot of his light-brown skin, becoming nearly black around his abdomen. The slender muscles he had there, popular amongst the women he had sung into his bedchamber, were invisible under the coarse skin. Layers of it had sloughed away, leaving his body covered with hard, smooth scales that glinted like shined obsidian in the sun trailing through the trees.

Following the trails, Giorgio watched as the branches snaked down his legs, and around his back from a line that ran down his smooth, bulging scaled centre. "Strange," Giorgio muttered, examining the spot where his manhood should have been, instead finding a slit of fine, criss-crossing scales over a slit between his legs. He still felt male, and could feel his manhood squirming as the hot-and-cold waves rippled through him.

Giorgio reached down, brushing the slit with his sensitive fingers. A shuddering ripple of pleasure burst forth. His mouth felt almost smoky, and he opened it up. "I must be quite hot," he thought, feeling the acrid smell of boiling acid slide over his nostrils. Something foreign twitched behind him as he stared down, panting as he watched the slit opening.

Pride in his body had come easily to Giorgio, but as he tried to remember how his erect shaft used to look, seeing the thick, flexible, black inhuman thing poking out of his scaly shaft seemed to knock it out of his mind. His balls had disappeared from view, but he suddenly could feel them inside. They felt very full. Insanely full. How had he not noticed that before?

Twigs snapped underfoot, the crawling line of scales spreading over the purpled flesh going unnoticed. Giorgio seemed to wilfully ignore the bite of the forest litter on his feet as he made his way towards a tree. A shudder ran through his body, potent and invigorating. His earlier worries of sickness disappeared; as did the fleeting concerns that his body was succumbing to the same thing that had transformed his partners-in-adventure. All that mattered now was the fullness swelling up from his groin, and the strange thick, flexible - and spiky-tipped, he noticed with a strange satisfaction - cock throbbing and dripping between his darkening legs.

Stretching out these legs, Giorgio sat against the tree. He yelped, pulling away. A glance showed him his mistake: he had been so fascinated by the changes to his male parts that he had somehow missed the far more drastic change of growing not only a small, yet thickening, tail, but something out of the twisting, scaled flesh of his back. He stared at them, the flesh on his sides twitching, before realising his neck should not have twisted that far.

His thoughts interrupted from lust, Giorgio quickly patted himself over. His handsome face was changing, his beautiful hair sloughing off, thick locks dropping onto the ground. The bald, scaly spots left behind seemed to buckle away from his skull. His face seemed to be as well, his tongue flicking out to find teeth curling as sharp enamel points started to fill his mouth. Nostrils that seemed oddly small flared and flickered on the snout growing. When he pulled his hands away, noticing how large they seemed, he noticed that all of him seemed bigger. A quick glance at his discarded clothes told him he would never be able to get back into them.

Giorgio's lust flared up again, and he realised he didn't want or need to get back into his old clothes. He admired his new scaly skin, particularly enamoured with the way they glimmered as they soaked in the sun. One touch was enough to convince himself of its toughness. "I think it would take quite a lot to hurt me." He flexed, muscles feasting on the lusty fires burning through his blood. He had never been strong or big, and had not thought of either as a negative, but now that he had those qualities in growing abundance, well, that was quite another matter! Even the gradual disappearance of his human shape didn't worry him: he remembered having been human at some point, but any concerns seemed so small, the way the humans he conjured from his memory seemed small. There was nothing to worry about: as his size, strength and toughness increased, so did his attraction to his new form and an arrogance that every gain was not only deserved; it was owed. "And besides," he thought, looking at his drooling erection with an equally drooling, smoking snout, "there is something else I believe that I owe myself."

It had been some time since Giorgio had needed to pleasure himself, and his transformation made him more cautious. He looked down at his hands, the fingers starting to curl into hard, clawed front feet; he was needing them more to keep himself standing, and sitting up with the growing mass of his tail and his elongating body was just no longer comfortable. Twisting his neck around suggested that it might get long enough - especially as his cock was still expanding - to use his mouth, but the smoke and the sharp fangs his tongue glided over made him feel wary of that as well. "Unbelievable!" he grumbled, his voice shaking through the leaves like thunder. Was there no way for him to get release?

Feeling irritable, Giorgio took it out on the tree he had gone to lean against earlier. He hadn't meant to set it on fire as he let out a pent-up roar from deep in his guts, but as the flame shot out, he felt a shudder of excitement that left his changing body tingle. He watched, the yellows, oranges and reds reflected in his darkening eyes. There was something pleasing about being so powerful, so destructive, and since his mind wasn't capable of figuring out a way to relieve himself of one appetite, he went about indulging in another.

Fwoom! Up went his clothes and armour, turning to ash immediately as he created a circular wall of fire all around him. The heat, he learned, was very pleasant on his scales, and though his sensitive shaft didn't find the flames appealing, the show of his power made it shake and leak. Crunch! He brought his hands - his front feet - down hard on the tree. "That's what you get for cutting me!" It wasn't the same tree, but it didn't seem to matter; it collapsed into burning splinters.

Giorgio's new horned growths jabbing out of his head and the end of his tail erupted from between ridges of scales unnoticed. He was expecting them now: he could almost see his final, glorious shape as he crushed one tree with his front legs, kicked down another with his hind legs, and brought down a bunch with a swing of his thick, new appendage. The forest around him was a burning, smoking circle of destruction; the trees almost shrinking with each beat of his new heart. His eyes reflected the flames and embers cruelly.

A powerful need to stretch twinged up Giorgio's back, and thinking back to cats stretching in the sun, performed the same thing. A fiery moan burst out of his lips: the feeling of his virgin wings stretching out of his back was almost orgasmic, even if it did nothing to appeal the burning need to ejaculate from his loin. He tested them out; they still had some growing, it seemed, as they were too small to carry his large, magnificent body upwards just yet. They shaded the ash-grey ground surrounding him.

Lifting his head over the tops of the remaining trees, Giorgio squinted through the smoke rising up around him as he exercised his growing wings, eagerly anticipating his first flight. His claws raked the ground, furrowing lines of brown into the grey blanket around him. Now he was hungry - starving - on top of being irritatingly insatiably horny. Blowing the smoke away, he snuffled and snorted at the air, fanning his wings to circle the scents around him. The only thing that tempted him was the scent of deer; his ears were almost lost amongst the frills and horned ridges on his head, but he could smell and hear them fleeing from the fire and its source. Everything else was too small, too one-off to sate him, and they all seemed to stir up memories his mind seem keen to forget: a solitary donkey amongst the mingled scents of humans, birds, beasts and tentacles.

"What I want," Giorgo decided, using his lower left foot to scratch absent-mindedly at a twinge in his flesh, "is a cattle. A herd of cattle." He could see them, the stupid brutes lowing in the field, a dark shape growing over them. Some might see him swooping down on them, but by then it would be too late: they would be cooked in an instant, and he would swoop down, popping bulls and cows into his mouth hole.

Before he was aware of it, Giorgio was pacing, trees being knocked out of his way as he marched forward. The hunger pangs in his stomach rumbled like a distant storm, and the very idea that he - magnificent creature that he was - could not only find satiation for his loins, but for his stomach, appalled him. Absent-mindedly, his wings stretched, vortices of wind lifting the puny woodland creatures he was too large and self-important to notice, flying up and down. His head clearing the trees went unnoticed, and he hardly felt the trees brushing aside, so did not notice when that feeling disappeared.

"Food!" Giorgio grumbled, his wings carrying him up into the air. The forest shrank underneath, the dungeon that had been so important vanishing completely. He acted on instincts that seemed to have blossomed from nowhere but his new body, a form born out of legend. Animals scattered below him, and if he thought of them at all - which he didn't - he would have been pleased at the fear he instilled.

The forest was large, but Giorgio's flying, growing body ate up distance eagerly, and soon he was cresting the edges, his large black reptilian eyes scanning the ground, darting this way and that with what should have been a surprising clarity had any of Giorgio's humanity remained. But that had burned up in the heat of the changing of his form just as easily as he had turned his clothes to ashes. The undulating ground beneath him seemed to attract sheep farmers. The flocks scattered below him like a miniature version of the clouds passing almost within his reach, but he didn't particularly care for the taste of mutton at this moment, and his pride outgrew both his lust and gluttony. He would eat cattle - and only cattle - and nothing less than what he wanted would suffice.

At last, the ground underneath Giorgio smoothed out enough for farmers to risk raising cattle. Spotting a large herd, he started to circle, the movements of the small humans out from their small shacks given the same thought as a horse gives the flies buzzing about its backside. Building up his fiery breath, he swooped over and unleashed it. It spread across the field like a torrent of water. The beasts cried out in fright, but not pain, as their end swept over them too quickly.

Giorgio landed in the burned field, feet immediately going to work gathering his kills into one pile for him to eat. He stretched out, salivating as he grabbed one cooked beast with his jaws, tossing it up into the air, and catching it in an easier-to-eat position. The bones snapped, as he crunched, chewing it up and swallowing it in several meaty gulps. "Unbelievable!" he thought. It had the exact taste he had wanted, and was very pleased with himself as he realised he had succeeded marvellously at both his first flight and first hunt.

With his hunger slightly gone, Giorgio suddenly grew aware of the things going on around him. The farmer, and - going by the similarity of their smell - his adult male children, had come out to face the thing that had destroyed their livelihood. Giorgio didn't care; he was tempted to burn them to get their cries to stop, and to avoid any irritating bug-bike pokes with their weapons, but not all of his needs could be sated by the pile of meat he sat beside. Twisting his head down, his breath strongly smelling of freshly-eaten cattle and sulphur, snapped gingerly at the toothpick one of the humans was waggling in his direction. He managed not to take the human's arm off, which would hopefully make getting them to do what he wanted much easier. "You think to stop me?!" He laughed, smoke billowing out of his muzzle. "Unbelievable!"

The humans seemed shocked that Giorgio had spoken, and their surprise gave him another advantage. He glared at them through eyes nearly as tall as they were, and thought that there were probably too few to satisfy him properly. He was getting impatient though, so when one finally exclaimed, "You can speak!" he was tempted, once again, to just burn them all.

"Better than you, bumpkin!" Giorgio glared. His eyes shifted to the pile of meat. He allowed a growl to rumble around in his throat, then spoke again. "I could kill you all where you stand, but I have need of your services. I will spare your lives, if..." He rose up on his haunches, lifting his massive, drooling cock off of the ground. He thrust forward meaningfully. "Help me with this, and I suppose I can spare your lives, possibly even give you some kind of boon."

As he let his request sink into the human's feeble minds, Giorgio thought back on his old memories. He didn't want to particularly recall his week old form, but there was something that it knew that was quite important. "The vial!" It filled its mind; he remembered it being drunk, and the other humans changing shape. He had not touched it, but... but the fluid had touched him. He laughed, and added, "Of course! I shall give you power and strength, cunning and speed beyond human comprehension!" He stared at the farmers. "Or, if you do not 'milk' me, I will kill and eat you as well! I am quite hungry and very horny, and you will sate one need or the other."

The men stared at each other, fear passing through them. Finally the eldest - Giorgio assumed it to be their father - sighed and dropped his pitchfork. "Just think of it as a horse," he told his sons. Then gulped. "A very big horse."

Giorgio lowered his back end to the ground, trying to judge the distance enough to allow the men to crawl underneath him but have his shaft low enough for them to get at it. It took some positioning, but by lowering his front end considerably, he could feel their hands on his shaft. Hormones flooded him, and he sprayed fire into the air. "Yes! More, more!" he cried. "And don't try anything, or I will squash you all."

Letting the humans squirm underneath him, Giorgio rent fresh grooves into the ground. So much smoke poured from his nostrils that the idea of folks coming to investigate a new volcano rising from the ground filled his idle thoughts with mirth. Most of his mind was gone to the pleasure, however; the men were not large enough to even reach around his girth, so they had to work in groups of two or three.

The muscles in Giorgio's buttocks clenched and unclenched. He could imagine that he would produce a prodigious amount of seed; enough, he imagined, to wash over the humans. He hoped that at least one of them would transform into something of a suitable size. Possibly even a - smaller, weaker, he was specific to note in his musings - form like his own. Although, if his lusts grew to this ferocity, he couldn't imagine himself getting too picky over how he was relieved of it.

The rumblings in Giorgio's neck shook the ground. His body was tensing up. It wasn't as good as he knew he deserved, but just being touched and stroked, as feebly as the humans could manage, was just enough to help edge him towards the precipice. He could feel his orgasm building; he was excited to see if it would be as impressive as he imagined it would be, although he braced himself for disappointment. Not that it would be his fault, but the humans he was using were rather limited.

Thick black claws gripped into the ground, and the first wave of a power shudder spiked through Giorgio from the considerable length between the end of his muzzle and the tip of his tail, and between the tips of each wings, which slowly stretched out as the feeling built and built, making him feel even bigger. "This... is... unbelievable!" he thought, all other thoughts slowly fragmenting, time turning into long, drawn out instants packed with potent pleasure.

Finally, Giorgio felt his seed rushing through his body, heating him up so much that he just had to lift his head up - humans be damned! - and fill the sky above his head with fire. As flames sprayed out of his mouth, his massive cock shuddered, knocking the humans off their feet as thick, creamy seed splashed out onto the field. He could almost hear their cries of alarm, but they passed through him as his erection shuddered, twisting and turning like a frenzied snake, disgorging rivers of potent ejaculate.

"There!" Giorgio's voice thundered through the smoky haze that enveloped everything around him. "There is your prize! Bathe in my seed, and know true power!" He did not know - or, for the moment, care - if the men beneath him obeyed, or were even capable of obeying. His only care was for the cooling meat beside him, which he had been ignoring, but could now focus on as his body continued to pump out his ejaculate.