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The Prince and the Golem

By Limewah

Patron Reward for Rahka (Nov/Dec 2022)

18+

Rahka was in the middle of being groomed in the bath when he received a knock at the door.

"Young Heir, the King requests your presence."

"Just a moment!" The teal panther sighed and rolled his eyes. The mouse who'd been cleaning them just started working on his legs. A half-finished cleaning job was more frustrating and irritating than not having cleaned at all. But he waved the girl off and slowly trudged their way out of the tub. A wave of the mouse-maid's fingers summoned a burst of hot air that caressed Rahka's fur and evaporated the water, leaving his fur puffy and glistening.

"Thank you, Deborah, that will be all," they said, as the other attendant servants set about re-dressing him- doing up his garters, guiding his paws into his brogued shoes, placing his tiara back on his head.

Rahka strode into the throne room with all the confidence of someone who knew the throne would soon be his.

"What is it now, mother, father?" they said. "I was-"

"Please do not grouse, child," Rahka's father rumbled. King Khavartin still commanded a great deal of presence, in his advanced years.

"I wish to tell you of some good news."

"Let's hear it, then," Rahka said, crossing his arms.

"We're to be holding a summit here in a month's time. A summit with the neighbouring kingdoms, as well as with the Golems."

"Th-The Golems?!" Rahka balked and choked. "Why?"

"The time has come for us to settle a proper accord, and what better place to settle than here?"

"But father-"

"There is to be no argument. You must promise to behave."

"Hrmph." Rahka sighed and pouted. "You interrupted my bathing to tell me this. But fine. I suppose I'll bite my tongue. Though you're making a mistake."

"You are not my advisor, child."

Rahka huffed and did not dignify their father with a bow. They turned and walked, ready to head back to their bath... and doing their best to hide their nervous trepidation.

The Golem Principality was looked upon with more than a little trepidation and fear from the 'living' kingdoms surrounding it. The foundation of the new, budding society came about quickly, far quicker than anyone could have anticipated.

Golems were wide-spread; from their initial use as manual labour or protection, as the magical technology developed and expanded, so too did the forms and materials a construct could take. Some were little birds, delivering messages with far more speed and precision than any avian could. Some were soft plush dolls brought to life to keep children company.

First was the Worker. An animated statue who was used for construction work requested a break from its foreman. When it was denied, it simply walked away. The statue had a strange aura about it, one that seemed to uplift and awaken every other construct it came across. It was not long before more and more golems freed themselves from their automatic servitude and followed the Worker. They wandered from place to place, fending off anyone who attempted to claim (or re-claim) them, gradually gaining ranks like a stone gathering moss. Their search for a home came to an end in a place no one else dared live. It was not exactly consecrated ground; it was the site of a long, cataclysmic battle from a long time ago, the land scorched and barren from old, great and terrible magics. It was inhospitable, impossible to find food or sustenance of any kind.

Therefore, it was the perfect place to settle and build a home for constructs who had no need or desire for such things.

Collectively, the Golems built a modest home for themselves, based on the architecture that had been imprinted on them at their creation. A strange, yet beautiful mish-mash of all sorts of different cultural styles gradually grew in size until the towers could be seen from miles around.

The Golems had kept to themselves, though now and again a new pilgrimage of them would come to join their ranks. Indeed, some willingly let their constructs go after a time, allowing them to make their way to a new land - often because a newer model could replace the old one. It was a far more convenient method of disposal of an unruly soul-less labourer. More 'humane', too, though few of those who created and utilised golems had much in the way of sympathy or guilt for using them to begin with.

Even so, there were those who were terrified of the golems. Military leaders - Like Lord Scrith, to give an example from the feline kingdom - spoke of the need to prepare for invasion, or strike preemptively. Whether this was due to his fear of what the golems were, or his eagerness for an excuse to go to war, was not quite clear.

Rahka, the eldest child of the Monarch, was nervous. Partly due to the rumours and horror stories Lord Scrith had poured into their ear. That the Golems were waiting for the opportunity to truly rise up against their creators, and wipe them all out.

The missive requesting a summit between the various kingdoms that surrounded the Principality was not unexpected. But the fact that it was taking place in the Feline kingdom was deeply concerning, at least to the nervous young heir. They'd been fed a lot of fearmongering, and had taken it very much to heart. The nerves would build as the month passed, and with it swirled various thoughts of heroism. Whoever the Golems sent for their delegation would be high up. If they could destroy a few of the soulless things, they'd be routed, and their threat would be significantly lessened. Plus, it would make Rahka seem like that much more of a hero; it'd be a good mark for him once he ascended to the throne.

He was excited to wield that power, as much as his parents admonished him of the responsibilities and burdens of the throne. He didn't believe any of them, since, unfortunately, he was so deeply pampered and insulated from any real challenges or responsibilities that he was incredibly spoiled. More like a child than the adult cat he was.

His days leading up to the summit were spent deep in study and research - more research than he had ever done in his young life, more drive than he'd shown in any of his other studies. Naturally, it was all literature about golems, and constructs. Much of his focus was on their weaknesses and drawbacks, and how they might be defeated. No two golems were the completely, but there were similarities here and there. An enchanted scroll or slip of paper, hidden somewhere inside them was the source of their animation. Removing or destroying it would do the same for the machine. At least, based on the old documentation.

Rumours had spread that there was more to it, now. That the golems had found ways to create more of their own, without the need of scrolls or enchantment. Their ranks were growing, and with it the many different forms they could take. It was nothing short of an existential threat to the existence of every pure, flesh and blood being in this world. And Rahka seemed to be the only one who understood that.

He tried to warn his parents, over and over again. But he was rebuffed at every turn. More and more, he realised that he was the only one who had the strength of will to prepare an attack against these constructs, and preemptively put their rebellion to rest.

But every golem still had to have its core. It was just a question of identifying it and destroying it. When this 'ambassador' arrived, Rahka would ascertain its weakness, and make an example out of it. He would remind the world that they could not - would not bend the knee to their creations.

And the world would see him as the hero he knew he was.

-

The day of the arrival, he smiled and bent the knee and greeted the arrivals the way everyone else did.

As was the custom, the feline royal family watched from on high as the procession passed, from a platform perpendicular to the retinue. From the safety and surety of the high ground, the royal family allowed the ambassadorial allotment free passage into the castle keep

A very motley assortment of golems, for certain; he couldn't even tell if any of them were of any real physical threat. Barely an animated armour in sight. The smaller arrivals were children's toys. The larger ones that took anthropoid shapes resembled massive plush dolls with button eyes and embroidered lips that nonetheless were dextrous and expressive. The golems that did not take on a traditional bipedal form floated and scuttled, appearing more cute and disarming than threatening.

It had to be a ruse. Rahka was the only one who saw it. But he kept up a facade, as friendly as the one he was sure they were holding.

He subtly inclined onto his tiptoes to get a better look, trying to spot whoever the leader of the pack was. Who his high profile target would be.

However, there was one handful of constructs, very early in the procession, that caught Rahka's interest the most.

Nominally, they were the most 'normal-shaped' of the procession; bipedal, clothed too. But their unassuming clothing drew their uncanniness into sharper relief.

Part of it was the way they moved - their feet were barely touching the ground, like balloons that were too deflated to float. The bounce and lift off with each feigned step they took was almost imperceptible - Rahka was the only one who noticed it.

Their smooth bodies were colourful and transparent, their insides empty.

Of those strange, translucent, floating creatures, the one that fascinated him was one that seemed to resemble some sort of aquatic animal. It was, strangely, more voluptuous than any of the others, from the way its uniform creased around the chest. There were two other protrusions tenting the dress of the camisole on either thigh. Its smooth round dark head threw the yellow streaks on its forehead and around its eyes into sharper focus, as well as the purple on its feminine jawline. Its tail was long, and thick, ending in a finned tip not unlike that of a whale.

But its golden downcast eyes were the most striking part of it. Ostensibly dyed and painted on. But moving. Lifelike. Fluttering with those two-dimensional, comely eyelashes. A painted lady in all ways.

It looked up towards him.

It was only a fleeting moment of eye contact, less time than it would take to clear one's throat.

Something speared Rahka's eyes, gripped his heart and took his breath away. A sensation he could not explain or understand.

This confusion turned to immediate anger. He bit his lip and seethed, staring at the back of that orca-thing's head as it continued along. A nudge from his father was the only thing that tore him away, as he pointed out the squat little mess of bolts and screws that, apparently, was the ambassador.

Rahka barely paid attention. The prince felt acid in his throat, long after that... thing had receded from view.

The retinue was shown to their chambers, in order to allow the golems time to rest.

Rahka had tried to argue with his father; constructs like those would not need rest, and giving them time alone would allow them more time to plot. But his father, ever the fool, was so very insistent that they would be shown the same courtesies of any other dignified visitor.

The acid was still in Rahka's throat as he excused himself. He went straight to his room, wearing a long groove in the fine rug of his room with his incessant pacing.

The orca-thing was still rolling through his mind.

Its eyes.

Its lustrous skin (if it could be called that.)

Why did its appearance obsess him so much?

Had he sussed out a potential assassin?

It must have been an assassin.

Yes.

Or a bewitcher. Yes.

He'd figured out the scheme.

The next order of business was to confront, and confirm.

The 'servants' would be less guarded than the others. It was his obvious first stop.

Naturally, his first target would be that one. He would pump it for information and use its knowledge to discover the fiendish constructs' plot.

He somehow knew that she - it would be his best way in. That gaze, that little flutter of the eyes from before.

It was infatuated with him. He could leverage that.

Contriving a meeting was simple enough. All it took was marching his way down to the guests' quarters and insisting - rather loudly - that it was customary for the guests to give some of their servants work around the Feline castle. No need for small talk; the golems hadn't earned his trust, and they never would.

When he pointed his finger at the whale amongst the others, she looked nervous, perhaps balking at the sharp point of his claw. Afraid of him. Or attracted to him.

He flashed her a rakish grin, and she flinched a little, a nervously comely smile on her face.

"I'll take that one," he said. "Come with me."

"M-me?" the construct asked, looking frantically to her similarly-confused fellow golems.

"Yes. Come along." Rahka snapped his fingers and beckoned. "Now. Now please."

He would not wait for any of the rest of the retinue to question or complain; the ruse could not be picked apart.

He walked a few steps ahead of the bouncing orca-girl, glancing over his shoulder just to make absolutely sure she was shadowing him. The halls were his to explore, so he did not fear being found by anyone, except for -

King Khavartin.

His father was waiting outside of his room. As he turned the corner and saw the larger cat's imposing finger, he put his hand against the maid's face, shushing her before she could squeak - though her flesh squeaked slightly against the touch of his paw.

Not an unpleasant sensation....

"Hide out of sight," Rahka hissed. Go into the room just behind us; it is a storage closet. I will tell you when it's safe."

"But why-"

"Do as I say. You're in my service."

"Y....yes sir."

"Father!" Rahka stepped into view with a confident stride. "What brings you to my room?"

"Young Prince..." the baleful gaze of his father made him shrink. "I've come to check in on you. I trust you're perturbed by all of... this. But I wish to tell you that I'm proud of your restraint so far. I only ask that, tonight, you do not make a scene at dinner."

"Why do we need dinner? They don't eat, do they?"

"It is a formality. It will make them feel welcome."

Khavartin did not need to lean forward in order to loom over his son.

"Do not make them feel unwelcome."

"...Yes, Your Majesty." Rahka allowed a little acid in his voice, but the King did not comment. He brushed past Rahka, and his boots clicked on the floor, echoing through the stone halls as they gradually receded from hearing.

Rahka scurried like a cockroach to the storage room. He threw it open, to find the construct half-undressed, taking off her apparently ink-stained uniform. She'd spilled a jar of it over herself, by the looks of it, droplets were sliding down her now mostly-nude frame.

"A-ah!" she gasped. Surprisingly life-like. He didn't think golems could feel embarrassment. "B-beg your pardon, P-Prince..."

"Come along," Rahka said, taking her by the hand and taking her to his room. "I have a bath and some dry clothes."

"You're very kind, sir. I am quite accustomed to baths, from my previous, erm, purpose."

"I see."

Rahka had an inkling of what purpose that might be.

Was this creature going to try and seduce him? Pfah. Fat chance.

He would like to see it - her try.

His mind idly imagined all the ways she might try to seduce him as he got her settled in his room.

"I don't normally wear clothes." The construct sat on the bed, rather shy, her hands on her thighs as she looked up at the prince. He was dabbing the remaining droplets and smears of ink from her face and her ample chest with a damp cloth. It squeaked with every long rub and stroke.

"It is a... strange feeling. I much prefer without. It's closer to my original purpose."

"Indeed." Rahka looked her up and down. Now that she was undressed, he noticed the protrusions on either thigh, the ones that he'd barely caught a glimpse of under the camisole. Two arches, like handles. Their placement was odd, too. It posed a question that was answered by the signs of a cylindrical chamber between her legs. Not unlike...

Rahka felt very warm.

He continued to groom her.

"So, what is your name?"

"Eiryna," she said, politely.

"Do golems pick their names?" he continued to stare. Just to look for her core. Wherever it might be. What was her weakness...?

"I did, yes. But it wasn't my original name. I didn't have one when I was created by... one of you."

"A cat?"

"No, one of you flesh-and-bloods." she was fidgeting, her blunt 'claws' stroking and interlocking with each other. "I was, erm... not really used as anything more than a toy."

"In... what sense?"

"You can tell," Eiryna said. It was strange how calm and sweet her smile was. "You were looking at my thighs and my chest."

"How dare you imply th-that I..."

Rahka was already wondering what she... what she felt like. And she could see it, reading his expression like an open tome.

"It's all right," she said, reaching a tentative hand up to stroke his face. "Maybe that's why you were so interested in me, if you don't mind my suggesting so..."

"H-how...?" Rahka was about to repeat himself. He caught himself and stopped, the teal panther turning bright red.

"I've been used to satisfy my owner's lust many times. That was what I was designed for, after all. Though that was before I was awakened. I've not... laid with someone since. There's been little reason to..."

Rahka's breeches felt very tight.

"I-I see."

"But, if that is what you wish, you have every right and privilege to use me. You are our royal host, after all."

"Well..." Rahka bit his lip. "That's, erm..."

Her eyes were like two drops of honey. Such depths on a translucent, painted on surface, this thing made of squeaky synthetic flesh and full of little more than air.

She took his wrist and guided it down to grasp one of her handles.

She was so light. He felt he could lift her above his head with just one hand.

The grip was soft and smooth, like nothing he'd ever felt. It gave a little against his paw, almost like flesh. Warm, too...

What would her insides feel like...?

"Prince?" Eiryna's eyes fluttered. They gleamed like beautiful beacons. He stared down at her. Lights, like fireflies, seemed to dance in the air before her face. The rest of the world ceased to matter. His heart was racing faster, as he came to understand the true meaning of those overwhelming emotions he felt. From the moment he laid eyes on Eiryna, he'd been consumed. But not with hate or revulsion.

He was drowning in love at first sight.

"My Prince..." she cooed. Her voice made those words the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard.

His other paw unconsciously moved to the other handle. Her legs spread and wrapped around his thighs, and her paws moved slowly to the hem of his breeches.

"May I?" she asked, politely, her eyes shining.

Rahka's whole world sparkled with it. He smiled and purred, eyes wide to take in the full, translucent beauty of the orca. She was already pulling them down. He did not try to stop her. Why would he stop his true love?

Her hands ran through his fur, working under his shirt and coat to disrobe him. Her head tilted to and fro, and he followed with it. Not being nose to nose with her would have been torturous. He never wanted her to leave his sight.

He wanted to say that to her, but for some reason, words were unable to escape him. He hoped that gazing into her eyes would make it clear how much she meant to him.

She smiled at him. Her finned tail squeaked beneath him, cradling the fork of his legs and guiding his member towards her slit.

The cat toppled forward onto her, her air-filled body dimpling and squishing. The wet dampness left over from the cleaning made her skin feel cool and just a little more pliant. She accepted his member into her. He was shocked by the tightness and the warmth, the enchantments inside her making the sleeve feel like warm velvet.

Rahka cried out with pleasure, eyes rolling up into his head.

"Shh shh, My Prince," the orca cooed. "Look at me. Look into my eyes, and remain quiet..."

Rahka moaned and complied, bathing his senses in her golden gleaming gaze once more. He bucked frantically and quickly, his speed and sloppiness instantly belying his lack of experience with the pleasures of the flesh.

Eiryna chuckled and smiled. "Poor sweet little thing. Your schooling never extended this far, did it? I can fix that, for you. After all, I'm at your service."

"S...service..." Rahka moaned, his shaft clamped and squeezed in the warm, wet vise.

"Yes. Service." The orca-toy floated upwards just a little, allowing herself to become weightless as she bounced lightly on his hips.With tilts and sways of her head, she guided the prince in a silent siren's song to an upholstered chair - a version of his father's throne, in miniature, one that he had used to practise his own stances. She pulled herself away from him, hearing him whine and grasp at the air as he lost grip of the handles. Floating above him, she beckoned to the chair.

"Sit, My Prince."

The pose he struck in the chair was one that he would remain in for a long time after. His hands grasped Eiryna's handles tightly, his hips bucked and pistoned upwards, and his head lolled to the side, his eyes glimmering and his mouth drooling.

Eiryna's thick, rubbery tail stroked his face, draping around his shoulders as she bounced on him. Her movements were light, dainty, and perfectly practised. If she was deriving pleasure from this, she was doing a good job at hiding it, bouncing on him like a professional whore.

Each downward thrust lead another squeak, and another, and another, gradually growing faster, higher-pitched, more desperate as the sleepy, dazed Prince fucked his new toy.

Glimmering runes slithered from inside Eiryna's sleeve, down along the prince's member. They branded and emblazoned themselves just above his shaft, and just below the base of his stomach. It set Rahka's mind on fire, and made his shaft erupt in what would be the first of several intense, mind-shattering orgasms in the next hour.

Rahka groaned and babbled senselessly, eyes rolling and mouth drooling. There was not one part of his mind that was not completely focused on his toy, his new love.

"We have time, my Prince," she assured him. "Plenty of time for me to satisfy you, before dinner... and plenty of time for us to discuss our future together. In fact... shall we go for a bath, so I can show you what I was made for?"

"Y-yeess..."

Rahka rose and sleepwalked through his room towards his bathing chambers, unencumbered even though Eiryna was still wrapped around him and plunging down on his member.

As he sleepwalked into the warmly drawn water, she dictated to him. His mind was blank, and he wrote her words into those blank pages. She told him what their future together would be like. All the pleasures he would feel. And what he would do for her to make her happy.

-

It was feared, and perhaps expected, that Prince Rahka would make a scene of some sort at the dinner that evening. His antipathy would lead to some insult or some ill advised challenge, one that would threaten the whole ordeal. It hung over the dinner, like a fraying chandelier, threatening to drop at any moment. He remained quiet, and polite, all throughout. It seemed unnatural, but King Khavartin did not pass comment.

However, he did note the young cat glanced here and there, now and again. Looking along the gathered tables in the banquet hall, particularly when the servants - feline and construct alike - passed them by.

When King Khavartin stood to make a toast, Rahka pounced at that moment. Before the King could stop him, the prince launched into a toast - a pronouncement of his own. It was brief, but it would catalyse weeks upon weeks of embarrassing uproar.

"I'm so happy that you all have come, and look forward to many long years of companionship. In fact, I want to make the first extension of love and friendship to the Golem Kingdom - that server-girl there? Her name is Eiryna, and she and I have already married in secret!"

The feline kingdom would never be the same.

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