Chapter 6 - Turn of the Wheel:

Royal Stable: 

"Prince Nehas," Opala groaned, "you'd think for a horse with human intelligence you'd be better at keeping yourself clean." 

Her brother gave her a sharp look. 

Since the time with the Giga Lardo Opala's life had continued to change. Three full lunar months had passed, and she had spent that time studying and wherever she had the chance, practicing the magic in the grimoire. She could summon blasts of energy, cloud minds, fly for short distances and certainly levitate, clean cum off of her and transform it into food and energy, if she needed to (and she did need to, magic took a toll on her she did not expect). 

Dreams of vengeance danced behind her eyes. Make her eat peasant food and that nasty-smelling fish and crocodile meat? Make her the caretaker of her younger siblings, both the horse and the spiders, would she? 

She couldn't grumble about it. If not for the spell that could let her take a sudden swift blow like a horse's kick (though it was designed for the strikes of Giga Lardo and other such unpleasant entities) without a serious injury Nehas would have kicked her to death when she'd made the mistake of grumbling out loud around him. Her spider-siblings had swollen in size, too. They had begun with the body the size of a palm and the legs extending past the fingers well into the forearm. Now they were half as long as a person and large enough to be damned nuisances. 

"You're a damn mess." Opala said as she scraped his fur clean of the mud he'd rolled in and let dry. 

"Mom must love you but-" 

She winced when her arm brushed against her right breast at the wrong direction. That had happened increasingly frequently the last three months and then Opala froze. 

"Bigger breasts," she said, "no cycle," she gulped, then she leaned her hand down to feel her belly. A swelling. 

"No, no, no. No. Hell no." 

She remembered what day the baby had to have been conceived and just what had happened to her then. Lovers, from her sister's armies. About a dozen different species, each with different kinds of cocks. There was no telling just what lay behind this bump and its curve, what she'd give birth to. 

She couldn't grumble too much, merely went back to work on her brother. 

Her sister's voice met her when she turned and bowed before her Empress. 

"Our brother needs attention...." her gaze lingered on Opala, "Everywhere." 

"Yes, my Empress." 

She went behind her brother. 

She knelt first at his asshole, taking a deep breath. Her mother loved to do this, she didn't mind doing it with other animals or beings far more human. With her brother, with this sibling, it bothered her to do it because it meant having to straddle emotions she very much did not want to have. She drew her head back and stuck out her tongue and squatted with her legs spread wide. 

Osira didn't linger to watch her sister's tongue at work, knowing that it would go from there and jacking her brother off to letting him cum inside Opala's own asshole. She had seen Opala enough, flushed and shamed and enjoying herself, to know it was done. She had even selected the very horse her mother would be wed to, a great white draft horse whose sheer heft made him a giant among horses. 

She hadn't told Mother yet, of course. That would be the festivity to mark the aftermath of her triumph over Opala, what it would be when that day arrived. Her powers had seldom been needed after that time with the Giga Lardo in her old room, so they were as vast as they were that day. It was a nice thing, really. She sauntered and savored the eyes of her people and how they were drawn to her, much as they had been to Mother, or to Opala, before her. And to her then, of course, but in an aura of fear mixed with worry and to a degree with contempt. 

Not now. Now she was desirable in the same ways as Opala but moreso. 

Now she'd tapped into aspects of her gifts from Mother, discovering the benefits of indulging in hedonism with bodies naturally built for it. 

-------

Osira would hold audiences with her mother at her side on her own throne. Farah was accustomed, by now, to going topless and wearing transparent clothes and at times dressing slightly moreso than Opala in that she had her collar, as well as sandals. Today was a day for a longer transparent skirt, a mockery of a more demure style. 

Three lunar months of power, and of her growing and flexing her strength. Her new world had solid roots, now. Even if Opala did what she suspected and proved a very good student of magic and the kind of magic offering chances in a duel, the kind she'd specifically left out for her, she was pregnant. Given a powerful illusion and perception filter. Aside from that first time when their brother had kicked her, and when Opala had proven powerfully adept at magic for her own fortune, she had not truly been challenged on things. 

To anyone else it was visible that Princess Opala was pregnant, though goatish laughter and betting pools existed to wager on what kind of creatures the woman would bear. When their mother had joined the pool and wagered on four children by four different fathers and four different species, Osira had grinned. 

Now, in the audience, they went through the daily tasks of ruling, if slightly different. There were priests here, many of them. Of different Gods, and of the Goddesses. They spoke to them of the views of the Gods and their priesthoods, the demands of the Temple-Lords. They spoke of rumor and anticipation that Princess Opala would finally join her sister in the rank of princesses with children, and the new realities that she would face and how to break them to her. 

None objected to putting a pregnant woman to the work of looking after her brother and her spider-siblings. Even if a horse with human intellect, Prince Nehas was still a horse and his power could and would risk his sister's health by potential skittishness, in the eyes of an even partially rational observer. Osira's perception filter blocked this and Opala's own grasp of magic meant that the risk in any event was non-existent. 

So that was one challenge she did not hear. The others were the cat and mouse dance of throne and altar, her mother's wisdom calming harsher words between her and the Priests of Amun-Ra. 

"My lords," she said as she stood up. 

"We hear your arguments. It is true that for a span of time since the creation of the world the ways of Amun-Ra have endured, and that the last break with this under the lords of the Akhetaton was not a wise one. I ask you to look at our lands in the time of my daughter's restoration these last few months. Have we not seen greater prosperity and greater peace? Our family is not the cause of strife."

"For now," said the chief priest of Amun. 

"Princess Opala has been stubborn since the Empress's ascension to the throne and the founding of the Empire. We hold to tradition as a sacred gift of the Gods, bestowed upon us and essential to the broader order. She wields it as a cloak for a shameless bid for the throne, with no more respect for the Gods than a pair of rutting Water Buffalo in the fields." 

Queen Mother Farah nodded. 

"Precisely. The Empress's embrace of the Lord of the Red Sands stems from that reason more than any other. To compete with a fanatic beholden to misuse of principle is folly. There are no arguments within the cause of Amun-Ra that she cannot find a means to twist." 

The chief priest of Amun paused. "So you say that this is a bid for support from all the Gods, to prevent more strife?" 

"Precisely," breathed the Queen Mother. 

"These terms," the chief priest of Amun-Ra said with visible ill grace, "we can accept. In the name of Ma'at." 

Farah nodded, a smile of relief on her face. 

"And we can accept them," the priest continued, "from those visibly blessed of the Gods and able to achieve feats that no mere mortals can." 

Both the Empress and the Queen Mother bowed, then. 

------

That afternoon Farah sat in her daughter's office with her. 

"That was something," Osira grumbled. 

"You knew the risk of embracing the ways of Set, my love. Even when the God himself demands it, Gods demand. Mortals can hear the demands and be unconcerned with them." 

Osira nodded, releasing a weary sigh. 

"I wish I'd understood," she said, "how much the priesthoods value their ideas of what they think the Gods are like." 

Farah's laugh was for a moment as mirthless as Osira's own. 

"I'm sure," she said. 

"I'd just love," Osira said with a razor tone to her voice, "to see that fat old bastard with the gut try to take Sobek or Thoth in his ass." 

Farah laughed  loud enough it brought tears to her eyes. 

"I remember that." 

Osira crossed her arms in front of her chest and huffed. 

"Oh dear one," Farah said as she got up and went to her daughter, straddling her as Osira put her hands on her ass, "I've walked this path since I was born. There are no easy paths when the Gods quite literally touch you." 

Osira huffed again but relaxed when her mother pulled her into a deep, tender kiss as her hands kneaded her mom's ample ass. 

"Do you know," she said as she panted between the words when they broke the kiss, "that I haven't slept with Opala once since the visit from Set?" 

Osira gave her a wide-eyed stare and then a raptorial smile. 

"And how does my whore of a sister take that?" 

Farah shrugged. 

"Poorly, how else?" 

She laughed as the Empress kissed along her neck. 

"I've even fucked the barracks-whores, and when she's there no less." 

Osira gave her a wide grin. 

"Oh I know she hates that." 

"Mhmm," Farah hummed as Osira's hands slipped to brush at her labia, slowly working out her clit and teasing her with feather-strokes. 

As Osira's fingers slowly worked their way in in preparation for her to fist her mother and flex small bits of her magic, Farah sighed happily. 

"In the old days," she said in between moaning and panting as Osira's fingers became a fist and began their work, "I wasn't exactly angry at you in the way you think for sleeping with your father." 

Osira blinked, as she worked her mom's left nipple into her mouth.

"I wasn't," she said. "Truly." 

"You were furious at me." 

Farah couldn't speak for a bit, too lost in the sensation of the pleasure that roiled through her, her hips rocking in unity with the slow motions of Osira's hands and the spells that crackled through and around her being. 

"I was furious at your father," she said slowly and intermittently when she could let herself think. 

"He could have always said no, he slept with me for decades and knew all that I could do and he refused me at times. He let himself say yes to you." 

A sentence she could have second in second stretched out in minutes as she arched her back and came twice to Osira's effortless motions. 

"I admired you doing it." 

Osira blinked as she moved her mom's left nipple from her mouth and replaced it with the right, teasing it with her tongue. 

"Even if Opala does somehow undo all this, it won't matter for you and me. I'm not going to fuck her again, not when I have you." 

Osira grinned as her other hand smacked her mom's ass six times in a row, each succeeding spank harder than the ones before it as her fist moved slightly and her mom arched her back with her hands behind her head, eyes rolling as she moved through a convulsive series of orgasms. Osira moved her wrist back and then popped it out, cleaning it of her mom's cum with a deliberately slow and teasing fashion, before nudging her legs against her mother. 

"I gave you rewards, Mother. Time for you to honor your Empress." 

"Yes, my love," and then with that Farah slid off and onto her knees, spreading her daughter's legs. 

She took a whiff of Osira's arousal and then pressed her lips against her labia, her tongue rolling up and down it to give her daughter a kiss. 

"I don't know," she said semi-consciously, "what we were thinking trying to do what we did in that other world." 

Osira didn't let her speak more, shoving her head in as Opala's lips and then her hands went to work, worshipThing each and every inch of Osira's labia, slowly peeling the lips aside as she dove her head in, nose and tongue at work. Osira leaned back, the Empress closing her eyes at the vision. Soon, she would marry Farah to her new husband, and there would be all new games with a freshly broken Opala whose body would be a wonderland for everyone to play with. 

Including making the old goody goody of the two of them be the one for a change who knew her mother had a husband and went out of her way to seduce him. And still other, greater games to play. And yet with all of that, with all the degradation and humiliation and ruin she intended to visit on her mother at points, her mother would be the Queen Mother of Egypt until she finally died, her revered advisor, her lover, and the breeder of monsters for her and of new siblings for Opala to be overshadowed by, no matter how wretched in appearance or even smell. 

First, Opala had to indulge in her magic and bring forth that challenge. It was a time of when, not if, as even Opala herself acknowledge the ungrateful little bitch. 

Sprawled with her legs wide open and the sweet sight of her mother with her head buried between her legs, Osira was not surprised that Seb found the secret passageway she had installed. A small demonstration of magic and its powers. So deeply was Farah buried in Osira's pussy and in the task her Empress had given her that she did not see or hear the panther sneaking up behind her until his weight was wrapped around her. "Oh." she stared and broke her focus, moving from between Osira's legs and her daughter's  cum giving her face a  shine as Seb wrapped his body around her and his cock started brushing against her. 

"Hey you," she purred as he slipped inside her, his body rocking as hers shivered with delight. 

"That's a good kitty," she purred as he increased the pace of his poundings. 

"Naughty naughty Panther," she purred again and then went back to eating out Osira, working to bring her daughter off with two more orgasms than she had the previous times she did it. 

Osira sighed, her eyes closed in bliss. 

No, she wouldn't get any paperwork done today, and that would mean more to do tomorrow. That would be for later. For now she'd poached two of Opala's lovers, and Farah seldom seemed to care or be bothered with the idea that she had even been one of Opala's most frequent lovers in the old days now. Her world these days was whatever Mistress Empress decreed whenever she decreed it. 

She ruffled her hand through her mother's hair and her panther-lover's, hearing both of them responding with sound that was in harmony, if from a very different kind of pitch and different voices. 

-------

Opala brushed her sweaty brow, seated in her room, clenching her fists as she looked at the grimoire. She had found a spell that revealed to her a shocking, even horrifiying truth. She was not lightly pregnant as she'd thought herself to be, she was very much pregnant in the way her mother had been, perhaps. Osira had done this to her. Had made her give her womb to someone other than Seb, whom she'd intended to have her firstborn by and then to later marry a human for the sake of continuing on her reign. 

Her fists clenched and her breathing intensified as she looked at the grimoire and then her babies began to move as she closed her eyes and her lips peeled back into a scowl that would have genuinely scared Osira had she seen it. 

"I have put up," Opala said in a room with no-one else to hear, "with this bullshit for four months. I'm pregnant, Osira stole my throne, my mom, my Sebastillion...." 

She stood up then. 

"All right, bitch, she growled. I'm going to take you down." 

Then she sat back down and lay on her side, her fingers going between her legs. 

"But first, I'm going to use my own magic to do something you haven't let me do without your permission in months." 

Her fingers worked in and slowly she spread her legs as her fist soon pumped with a pistoning motion. Her belly moved and jostled, as her moans echoed, low and soft and the squishing sound continued in her room. 

It took her hours, through the night and into the next morning. She could have woken and given her sister her morning ritual but not today. Not now. 

------

Taking a sword and strapping it beneath her bump and putting on her royal arm-bracelet, Opala stepped from her room. 

"The Empress wants you," a courtier said. 

Opala grinned. Yess....sometimes, things could work out. 

She walked through the corridors with a mystically assisted pace and stopped right at the edge of the throneroom. 

"All right, Opala," she said. 

"You can do this." 

She opened the door and strode in. 

The Empress sat on her throne, her eyes taking on a reddish glow as the sound of a desert wind howling over the dunes brushed against her. 

"I want my throne back, big sister." 

Osira smiled at her and she did not like that smile, nor did she like the way her mother looked at her, even if she looked at Osira the same way. 

"I've been waiting for this," Osira spoke. 

"Here, now." 

She strode from her throne. 

"One last challenge, you and I. For all the stakes. The throne, the Kingdom, our rivalry." 

Opala let her own eyes glow as the magic she'd learned called to her and her hands began to blaze with an eldritch light. 

"Perfect, then when this is over, you'll be back where you belong. Skulking fucking anything with enough eyes and buboes to seem halfway attractive as a magic fuel." 

She let her right hand move as her sister stood and then seemed to stand in a perfect stillness, only holding one arm in front of her, hand flat. Light blazed out and the duel began. 