Beauty and the Beast(3)

Pain tore through him. It felt as if every bone in his body broke and rebuilt, knitting itself back together. His mouth hurt, he’d bitten his tongue and could taste the coppery blood on his lips.

“You. Are. A BEAST!” she screamed.

Frederick fell to the stone floor in agony. He raised his hand to keep her from hurting him, but…his hand…

Oh dear Lord in Heaven

His hand was gone. In its place was a huge animal…paw? No—a gorilla’s hand, black and covered in fur.

“What have you done to me?” he cried. Even his voice sounded different. Thick, rumbly, like a lion’s roar speaking human words.

The storm stopped. The room lit up with a soft glow from the candles in the sconces. His stepmother gazed at him thoughtfully, as if her anger dissipated once her spell had been cast.

“You have a mirror, see what I’ve done to you for yourself, Beast.”

Frederick tried to rise, but everything still hurt, so he crawled on all fours to the large mirror in the corner of his room. He roared in fright at what he saw.

The animal before him—it couldn’t be him, could it? A fearsome combination that didn’t exist in nature. His face only slightly resembled his own—he recognized his eyes—still green, still his. His cheekbones, and his jaw. But he had huge fangs, like a tiger. A mane, like a lion. And his body—what was he? A mix of man and gorilla, ten feet tall when he rose up on his hind legs, trying to get a better look. Muscles covered every inch him, not quite hidden by brown and black fur.

His thick, muscular arms hung heavy and low like a gorilla’s, but his legs had been transformed into those of a wolf’s. He had a tail! Dear God, he had a tail. He was hideous.

Frederick cried out in fear and anger, lashing out at his stepmother with a desperate swipe of his humongous gorilla hand.

“Serves you right,” she said, jumping gracefully out of his reach. “I sure hope you were right about your little girlfriend loving you for who you really are. Because until someone falls in love with you—true love—despite your monstrous appearance—you will stay a beast.”

“Why?” he asked, crouching on the floor in front of the mirror. “Why?”

“Because you broke my heart,” the enchantress said softly.

Frederick inhaled deeply. “No. I mean…” He paused, unsure if he should ask her, afraid it would make her change the rules of her spell. “I mean, why make it so the spell can be so easily broken, when Nadine tells me she loves me?”

She paused, sighing. “I didn’t make it that way on purpose, it’s just how it is. True love conquers all.” Reaching down, she patted his mane like he was a good dog. “It’s quite adorable that you really think that harlot will still love you when she sees you as a beast. She won’t.”

Frederick rose up to his full height, all ten feet of it, and screamed for her to leave him alone.

It came out as… a roar.

***

Later that night, Frederick prowled through his chambers, afraid to leave lest someone in the court decided to shoot him down out of fear.

His clothing didn’t fit, and despite the full coat of fur covering his body, he felt naked and too much like the beast he’d become.

“I need some pants,” he murmured to himself.

He couldn’t go to see Nadine without clothing. His cock had grown in proportion to his new, huge body, and hung lewdly whenever he stood. And he had to see her so she could break the spell.

Something shifted in the air. He turned to his bed, and lying next to the shredded clothing his stepmother had torn from him while he was still in human form…were pants. Large pants, with a hole for a…tail?

“What the hell is going on?” he wondered.

A piece of paper appeared on the bed, next to the pants. He tried to pick it up, but only succeeded in swatting at it with his new hand. Sighing, he leaned forward to read the spidery handwriting that sprawled across the note.

Ask and ye shall receive, Beast. The castle will comply, since no one else will.

All my best,

Your beloved Stepmother

Frederick growled and pulled the pants off the bed. But he didn’t know how to use his new appendages. The claws on his feet ripped everything, and though his animal hands had opposable thumbs, learning to use his new body was going to take some time. And he didn’t have time. It was useless.

“I need the damn pants on me,” he yelled at the empty room.

The pants moved as if of their own accord, pulling up onto his wolves’ legs, buttoning themselves. He looked in the mirror.

Well, I look like an animal in clothing. Wonderful. He frowned, but the Beast in the mirror revealed the expression as a horrific grimace with fangs. He tried to smile, to see if that was any better, but it was worse.