The sorceress caused quite a stir when she rode into the city astride her strange, two-limbed steed that had the distorted bovine features of a young woman. She was delighted by the hushed murmurs as she had cantered through the towering gates, with her cat-girl pet in tow on a glittering leash.

"What strange beasts are these?" they whispered in awe.

"It looks like a woman, yet cannot be, for it has no arms, and its face, though human in its details, is long like that of a horse."

"These are wonders from a far-off land," certain would-be scholars confidently lied.

"No, a slave girl has been ravaged by a stallion, and this the foal it sired on her," still others reasoned.

"And of the leashed cat-thing, I hear that a race of such women roam the forests of the east," said some, "where they are snatched from their homes and raised as pets."

The sorceress was amused by their blubbering and tickled by their interest in her creations. Allowing them a few more moments to marvel, she then silenced them with a sweep of her hand.

"I hear your whispers as clear as shouts," she declared, "and not one of you has the truth of it. These two are my newest, one a pet, the other a beast of burden. A few days ago they were women; but they encroached on my domain, foolish little girls."

A murmur of assent flowed around the throng, the people aghast at the folly.

"One of their number I slew, so as to make a gift of her head to my familiar for his collection," the sorceress continued, her voice like a midwinter night. "This pretty black cat I changed to suit my desire for a pet and concubine, and now she dotes on me with great affection. And this beast, she killed my stallion to silence him as the three entered my tower. So her punishment was to take his place, moulded into a form to suit her new role."

Deciding the explanation was adequate, the sorceress continued on her way. Hushed speculation resumed, now fuelled anew by alarm, and followed the delighted sorceress all around the city as she attended her mysterious engagements. By the time she had finished her rounds, her exotic mount was the talk of the city.

The very next day, the sorceress spied outside her tower a young man waiting by the river, with a woman bound and gagged on the ground at his side.

"Sorceress!" the man cried up at the crystal spire. "Yesterday in the city I saw your strange new steed, and heard how it had once been a woman who killed your stallion. Last week my cow died by the poor care of my wife, and now I have no milk to sell. I wonder, might you see your way to lay your spells of change on my wife, so that she may provide for me in its place?"

Now many people came to petition the sorceress, and it bored her greatly. Usually she would sting their minds so they would wander off forgetting why they had come, or sling them far away with a swirl of wind, yet still they sought her.

Sometimes, though, for her own curiosity, she would entertain a plea that amused her. This time, the man's words struck up a spark of some unknown colour inside her, and it was just enough to arouse her interest. She pulled on her cloak, called Jorjina to heel, mounted Amy, and rode out to meet the man.

"You would have me transform your wife into a replacement for your cow?" the sorceress purred down at the man. "And why should I do such a thing?" She looked at the woman tied on the ground, as Jorjina bounded over to her and clawed and poked curiously. The man's wife writhed against her bonds but was helpless to resist the attentions of the cat-girl, and the sorceress laughed silkily as her pet toyed with the woman.

The man fumbled at his belt, and produced a small purse. "This is all I have," he murmured, his head lowered.

"I have no need of your money," she said disdainfully, and flicked an arm towards the man. Ten yards away the purse sailed away as though her hand had struck it.

"If you would have me beg, then I beg you!" the man said, sinking to his knees in the long grass. "I have no other way to make ends meet."

There was nothing the sorceress wanted from the man; not his money, nor his pleas. If she had wanted either she could have taken them without bargaining. She knew that if she granted this request, it would mean months of others flocking to her tower with hopes of their own wishes being granted; but a whim had taken her, and she could not resist seeing it through.

"Very well then," she said, letting the man think it was his pleading that had swayed her. She ignored his gushing thanks as she dismounted. "Remove her bonds please." The man did so.

Screaming, his wife began to run away, but with a wave of the sorceress' arm she fell silent and stopped in her tracks. Another wave, and her plain garments vanished in a wisp of silvery dust. Then she was plucked into the air as if by invisible hands and spun to face the sorceress before being planted back in the earth.

Slinking forward, the sorceress inspected her subject. The woman was young, perhaps in her third decade of life, and her blonde locks framed a sweet face whose eyes were wide with terror. Her bare flesh, wan after slaving indoors and now drained still more from fear, glistened with a cold sweat in the baking sun of the plains. Terror the colour of burnished gold crackled across the woman's skin, and the sorceress gasped with pleasure.

"Now, my dear, is it true that you were responsible for the death of your husband's cow? Of course you will not lie to me."

Ever so slowly, and clearly struggling to do otherwise, the woman nodded.

"Then you must surely agree that it is fitting that you take its place?"

Still under the glamour of truth, the young wife shook her head. The sorceress frowned, puzzled; the woman did not think this fair?

No matter. The interrogation was for fun, and the sorceress had elected to play with this new toy even if it had transpired she was not responsible for the cow's death at all.

"I am afraid your husband thinks differently, my dear," the sorceress scolded. "Now then. This will hurt, a great deal, though only briefly." She cast her hands into the air dramatically, and the woman's mouth flew open in a silent scream.

It took less time for all the changes to be made than it had for Amy; the sorceress was gaining skill in this invented art. After only half a minute or so of grinding snaps and crunches of bone, of beautiful blonde locks cascading worthlessly to the ground, and of agony torn across warping features, the transformation was complete.

The man's wife was now a creature akin to Amy, the sorceress' steed. Long legs supported an armless torso, upper back vertical as normal but broad, lengthened lower back parallel to the ground for saddling. The woman's bald head was stretched forward into the shape of that of a grazing animal, her own features spread across a great length and topped by floppy, pointed ears. To enable her to provide milk for her husband the sorceress had also ensured that her breasts had grown to leviathan proportions, larger even than Amy's new pair, each the size of a small keg of ale and swaying heavily below her as she jerked with the last spasms of pain.

Of course, the sorceress had made sure the new creature was neither as large and swift, nor as exotically-sheened as her own midnight blue mount; but as a small gesture of sympathy for the woman the sorceress had washed her ashen skin with a beautiful rich tan.

"I suggest you rope its neck before I release it," the sorceress matter-of-factly, "for it will most likely try to escape." Still gawping in wonder at his wife's new form, the man slipped a rope around her neck and tied it tight. The sorceress gestured and the woman was free of the spells, but she could only strain to no avail as her husband held her fast.

"How long will the transformation last?" he asked as he stroked his wife's bestial head to calm her brays of sorrow.

"Oh, it is quite permanent," the sorceress assured him as she inspected her handiwork critically. A little less breast next time, she told herself, for these look ridiculous they are so huge; then she realised that she was already planning a next time, and smiled to herself mischievously as an idea dawned.

"You have my eternal gratitude, sorceress," he told her earnestly. "You have saved my livelihood, yet have asked nothing in return." He looked worried. "Are you sure you wish no payment?"

The sorceress giggled. "I assure you, little man, that I am not the type to call in surprise favours. However, I will ask of you one simple thing."

The man nodded hurriedly.

"When you return to the city, tell all that you meet that I am willing to perform the same transformation on any woman in the city."

The man nodded and repeated his thanks over and over as he led the miserable cow-woman-pony back towards the city. The sorceress watched the creature as it plodded away, lightning-blue sparks of excitement flickering deep in her eyes.

"Come, Jorjina," she called to her prized pet when at last she turned her gaze away.

Jorjina had chased off after some plains rodent, but on hearing her name she dropped to all fours and bounded with incredible speed back to her owner, writhing against her mistress' legs and purring with affection. The cat-girl was a young woman who had broken into her tower along with Amy, the girl who was now the sorceress' twisted steed, and as punishment had been reshaped into a cat-like pet and slave for the sorceress. Though she ran on all fours, she still moved at more leisurely paces on her hind legs, and had retained far more of her human form than her unfortunate friend. She had pointed ears atop her head, sliding claws and a writhing tail, and was covered with a short, luscious black fur, which became coarse and spiked on her head and between her legs. What little naked skin she had - her palms, soles, torso and breasts - was just as black as her fur, save for the bright pink of her nipples. Aside from these additions she was very much herself.

Jorjina slinked and curled around her owner's legs, silken fur gliding over alabaster skin. The sorceress gave a sigh like a spring breeze. She would put her doting slave's lightning tongue and needle teeth to fine use when they returned to her chambers; the glamour that ensured Jorjina's adoration and lust for her mistress had done its work perfectly.

No such spells eased the torment of Amy, the steed. The sorceress gleefully mounted the would-be thief, imagining the humiliation and despair the girl-beast must be feeling even as she submitted to the reins. Clasping Amy's back tight between her legs, the sorceress gave her mount's broad rump a sharp smack. Enormous breasts swung beneath Amy's armless torso, and fleshy lips champed at the bridle that enwrapped her elongated face as she loped across the savannah.

A sweet, wicked smile flickered on the sorceress' lips, and her plan danced in her mind as she rode. With the interest shown by all in the city in her magnificent steed, she knew many, many people would bring unwanted wives and daughters to be transformed into the creatures. The sorceress would ensure that the beasts she created could produce others of their kind as offspring - whether by human or oxen sires was a matter for entertaining consideration at a later time - and perhaps within as little as a decade, a mere breath in the lifetime of her kind, the people would have adopted her creation as their own. To leave such a brand on a society with the subtlest of touches, allowing planned change to wreak itself once the spark was lit, was the ultimate expression of the sorceress' art; not for her the crudity of empire, nor the hollow worship of kowtowed serfs.

Gazing down from her bouncing saddle at the sleek form of Jorjina bounding alongside the speeding girl-mount, the sorceress could barely wait to return to her chambers and anoint her euphoria. While the new species of braying woman-beasts would be her gift and her legacy, Jorjina, the luxurious cat-girl slave, was one creation she would keep for herself.

At least, for now.